


Finders Keepers

by Eireann



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-10-15
Packaged: 2017-12-29 10:47:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 25,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1004493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eireann/pseuds/Eireann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enterprise answers a call for help, but the situation they find will become more complicated than they expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Star Trek and all its intellectual property is owned by Paramount/CBS. No infringement intended.
> 
> Beta'd by Kathy Rose, to whom I owe an enormous debt of gratitude.
> 
> OC Em Gomez borrowed by kind permission of Chrysa.

Just over eleven hours later, the call the ship had been waiting for arrived.

The alpha shift had taken over on the Bridge. Hoshi had just sat down at the comm station when, a hand to her earpiece, she called out to the captain. “Sir, it’s another signal!”

“Let’s hear it,” ordered Jon.

It was almost an exact duplication of the one they’d received yesterday.

“–esting urg– assi– – any ship – –urvey team – –quake – trapped –”

T'Pol looked up from her station. “I have the location, Captain. But as I surmised yesterday, a rescue will be extremely hazardous. There is a considerable amount of volcanic activity in the area. The storm activity would make transporting dangerous in the extreme, and flying a shuttlepod down in the combined conditions would be ill-advised to say the least.”

“I’d be willing to try,” said Travis immediately.

“We would quite possibly be adding additional casualties to the situation,” T'Pol drily responded. “I do not mean to imply any deficiency in your flying skills, Ensign, but the conditions are severe.”

“Hoshi, send an emergency transmission to Tellar,” Jon said as he stared at the planet on the viewscreen. “Inform them of the situation and ask if there are any ships in the vicinity that could help out with a rescue.” His brow furrowed as he considered the tumultuous world; the red-brown atmosphere was whorled with storms that must be thousands of kilometers wide. The thought of sending any craft as frail as a shuttlepod into one of those maelstroms was blood-curdling. And even if the pod got through safely, there were the volcanoes to take into account, not to mention the sulfur dioxide clouds.

What the hell is down there that’s worth risking lives for, he wondered. Now I have the choice between leaving these people to die, or risking my own crew to save them.

The initial distress call had come as a surprise, breaking a period of relative calm during which there had been nothing much for the ship to do except visit, inspect and map various astronomical features of the area they were currently traversing. The transmission had quickly been identified as coming from a planet right on the border of Tellarite space, circling a star that was identified on the star charts as being named Gallarax.

A Vulcan science ship, the _K’Ver_ , had visited briefly ten years earlier, T’Pol had informed the bridge officers during the resultant briefing. They had noted that the star was showing signs of instability, and that there were no signs of habitation on any of its five planets. Evidently finding nothing else worthy of interest, they had departed.

Someone, however, had evidently found a reason to visit now. _Enterprise_ had picked up a badly broken call for help, on an audio transmission only. Finding that his was the only ship in the vicinity, Jon had ordered his helmsman to set a course and take them to the rescue at the best speed possible. Also on his orders, Hoshi had transmitted a response, but there was no knowing whether it had been received. There had been no reply to it, and nor to the repeated calls from the ship during the intervening hours; at a guess, more than one member of the bridge crew had wondered whether there would still be anyone left to save by the time they got there.

Now _Enterprise_ had established orbit and Jon was trying to ascertain whether a rescue was feasible. He hadn’t expected to be faced with quite such dangerous conditions, and though he was eager to save the trapped people down there if at all possible, his primary concern was the safety of his own crew. The _K’Ver_ ’s report had been dry and precise, and hadn’t conveyed any real sense of what they were actually up against: a system whose star was a ticking time-bomb. ‘Unstable’ was a classic Vulcan understatement, he thought, remembering the astrometrics readouts. A ring of debris in the orbit of what had been the innermost planet testified to the destructive capability of the star’s solar flares. That was all that was left of Gallarax Prime. Now, the increased stellar activity was having an extreme gravitational effect on this world’s molten core, and the planet was starting to tear itself apart.

“Response from Tellar, sir,” said Hoshi a couple of minutes later. “They have no ships that could reach here for several days.”

“Great.” Jon hesitated. “Hoshi, tell Engineering to get a shuttlepod ready. T'Pol, I want you to keep an eye on the conditions in the area. If we get a window of opportunity, I want us to take it. Travis, you'll pilot the pod, and Malcolm, I want you to go along to see what can be done safely.” He locked eyes with the tactical officer, with the plain message: _Make sure Travis doesn’t get carried away by his enthusiasm. I trust you to keep a level head down there._

Malcolm nodded imperceptibly. “Understood, sir.”

* * *

“Better hold on tight, sir. This is going to be a bit rough.”

 _Bloody wonderful_. Malcolm fastened the belt on the co-pilot’s seat and stared, or rather glared, at the murk in front of them. They were practically flying blind, and although he had the greatest faith in his companion’s flying skills, T'Pol’s enumeration of the risks facing them had not been encouraging. In addition, his lunch was sitting rather uneasily in his stomach. Aware that they might at any moment get the green light to launch, he’d eaten very lightly, but even so, the way the shuttlepod was bucking in the turbulence was making him queasy. And if it was going to get even worse…

It certainly was going to get worse. A _lot_ worse. The air currents hurled the shuttlepod upwards and then the next second dropped it a hundred metres. Only the strict Reed canon on what expressions it was and was not appropriate to use in front of a junior officer prevented him from using one with which his Saxon forebears would have been familiar.

“I’m trusting your judgement, Ensign,” he said through gritted teeth. “But you do realise that flying a shuttlepod head-first into a volcano is strictly contrary to regulations.”

“Yes, sir, I’m fully aware of that.” The young pilot was wrestling with the controls, but still achieved a grin. “The last thing I want is a posthumous reprimand on my records.”

Malcolm said nothing in reply to that, though he grinned briefly in return at the irony. Travis must be quite as aware as he was of the danger they were in, but still had the guts to make a joke. His opinion of the ensign went up another notch.

“Better conditions up ahead,” Travis reported. It felt like several hours, but was probably only about five minutes, before he spoke again. “At least we won’t have to wear the EV suits.”

Malcolm frowned at that. He was deeply relieved that he hadn’t had to resort to using the sick-bag; apart from being unpleasant in itself, heaving his guts up in front of a junior officer was undignified. But he was still somewhat unsure whether venturing out from the shuttlepod unprotected would be wise, and had decided that if they did manage to land safely, he’d use the pod's scanners as well as the hand-held scanners they’d brought with them to reassess the situation. They planned to set the pod down in the vicinity of an active volcano, but on the side opposite prevailing winds carrying away the toxic fumes. Unless there was any drastic change in conditions, the geography suggested that both lava and pyroclastic flows would move away from them as well.

He’d been fascinated by volcanoes for as long as he could remember; a boyish passion for anything that produced such magnificent explosions had at one time tempted him towards taking up volcanology as a career. Things had turned out otherwise, but he’d still learned a great deal of the science involved, just out of interest. It was certainly coming in useful now.

It wasn’t a new eruption. This particular volcano had been active when the _K’Ver_ had visited. As far as could be ascertained, it was relatively calm in nature; it was unlikely to produce the type of explosive event that would occur when a dormant volcano’s awakening blew out hardened material blocking the vent like shaken champagne propelling a cork from the neck of a bottle. This fact alone was the reason why the shuttlepod was making the attempt to land so close to it.

The venture was still extremely dangerous. The ground was still rocked almost continually by earth tremors. Malcolm could only imagine that something of incredible value must be located here to make it worth anyone’s while to risk such a threatening environment. An unstable area on an unstable planet, circling an unstable star – it couldn’t be anyone’s idea of home.

Moments later the shuttlepod broke through the base of the clouds and the men were able to get their first clear look at the landscape beneath.

It wasn’t encouraging.

To their left, the volcano broke from the planet’s crust in jagged menace, the plume of ash trailing away laced with bright threads of lightning. All around them were other, smaller peaks, uniformly greyish-brown in colour. The occasions when the wind died or changed direction would ensure that everything in the area was constantly covered by a snow of ash, suffocating any form of life that might try to get a toehold. The whole scene was one of desolation and peril as far as the eye could see in all directions, brooded over by the volcano’s menacing presence.

“Mordor,” said Malcolm quietly, awestruck in spite of himself.

“Mount Doom!” agreed Travis, grinning. “Sure hope Sauron’s not at home!”

“Well, as we don’t happen to have the One Ring with us today, I’m hoping he might not be too interested in us even if he is.” The tactical officer began studying the scanner readouts; now that the turbulent upper layers of the atmosphere were past, it was possible to get far better readings of the surface. “There seems to be a network of tunnels. I’m picking up three Tellarite bio-signs. The whole area’s seamed with cracks, and there’s water there, too. They must be bloody insane.” He caught himself; such criticism bordered on the unprofessional. “I can see what the problem is. The tunnel they probably came in by is blocked, and the others are narrow or lead to water. Tellarites are usually on the broad side. They probably can’t squeeze through, and I don’t suppose they’ve got aqualungs with them.”

“You think we can get them out, sir?”

“I don’t see why not, if I set the charges carefully.” He’d have to take very detailed scans of the surrounding rock and take into account what effect the shockwave would have on any pre-existing faults, but this was his area of expertise. If necessary, he could set off a series of small blasts to minimise the disruption – he certainly didn’t want to bring down the rest of the tunnel and bury themselves along with the Tellarites. Even from here he could see it would be a challenging job, but unless the shuttlepod’s scanners weren’t picking up information that a closer inspection would reveal, it would by no means be the worst he’d ever tackled. Unfortunately, the rock composing the planet's crust was riddled with some extremely dense material. The scanners couldn’t penetrate the deeper layers. He could see the tunnels near the surface, and some spots that indicated huge subterranean water reservoirs – probably a relic from a cooler period in the planet’s history – but when he tried to probe more deeply, the signals went fuzzy. This was undoubtedly the reason why the mayday call had been of such poor quality, though he was still surprised that it was being broadcast on audio only; Tellar had ample technology for up-to-date transmission equipment. The briefing on board ship, however, had covered the fact that the planet’s dense, turbulent atmosphere would make all communication through it extremely difficult.

On that thought, he toggled the comm switch. It had been programmed with the frequency on which the call for help had been transmitted, and would transmit in the appropriate language. “This is Lieutenant Malcolm Reed of the Starship _Enterprise_. We are responding to your mayday, and will shortly be attempting a rescue. Please respond.”

“ _Ent-ise_. It’s taken you –ong enough –o respond!”

He depressed the mute button and breathed hard. He knew perfectly well that abuse was common coin of the realm in Tellar, but being on the receiving end of it still annoyed him mightily, especially in the current circumstances.

“We should be with you in approximately fifteen minutes,” he said after releasing the mute button again, aware that his voice sounded even more clipped than usual. “Stand by to receive instructions.”

“If you have enough intelligence to cooperate with them – which I doubt!” Travis shouted.

The tactical officer shut off the transmission and eyed his subordinate. “I don’t remember asking for your contribution to the conversation, Ensign.”

“I’m really sorry, sir, but you were being way too polite,” Mayweather said apologetically. “They could have gotten really offended.”

“Oh, heaven forbid.” What would an offended Tellarite do, he wondered – speak ultra-politely? “In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re here to save their necks. I don’t propose to worry too much about offending them in the process.”

Travis returned his gaze to the console, but the grin on his face indicated that he wasn’t seriously crushed. Trying to crush Travis was rather like trying to drown an air bubble, Malcolm reflected wryly; no matter how hard you stamped, he always bobbed up again afterwards. Still, it was an endearing quality, and one that he both liked and envied in the young ensign. Give Travis a decent few years of experience and a lot of hard work, and it would be something that would serve him well when he commanded his own ship, which Malcolm was certain he eventually would.

The shuttlepod was now coming in to land. The pilot was using the scanner readouts as well as visuals for the task; the layer of ash hid the unevenness of the ground beneath. Engineering had installed additional filters across the intake valves to keep out fine ash particles, a necessary precaution because, despite Travis's skilful handling, the turbulence stirred up by the shuttlepod set off a minor snowstorm of ash. Mordor vanished temporarily behind a haze of grey flakes as the shuttlepod finally settled delicately on to the surface, coming to rest at a slight angle but showing no inclination to slide or tip over or do anything else disconcerting.

A short distance away rested a small Tellarite craft, the layer of ash that had accumulated on it making it look as though it had been carved out of dirty snow. There was no mother-ship in orbit; presumably the survey party had expected to rendezvous with one elsewhere at a prearranged time. Given the extremely hazardous nature of the environment this was a very risky strategy, but there seemed no other possible explanation, though it was puzzling that the vessel had not responded to its landing party’s distress call. Maybe it was too far away to pick it up.

As soon as the engines were off, and post-flight checks completed, Mayweather started running another set of scans. “Air quality is breathable. Some sulfur dioxide present, currently 0.1 parts per million and within short-term safety limits. Some other gases, but nothing that presents any significant threat.”

This tallied with his own estimate of the situation. Although it wouldn’t be particularly pleasant out there, they wouldn’t be staying long. Once they reached the blockage in the tunnel, it would take him less than ten minutes to do his calculations and place the charges, and then with a bit of good luck and a following wind, they’d all be out of here. Unless the missing survey mother ship turned up in the meantime, _Enterprise_ could then arrange a rendezvous with the nearest Tellarite ship to hand over their unexpected passengers, earning themselves credit – if not thanks – from the surveying party’s government.

“Reed to _Enterprise_.”

“ _Ent-ise_.”

“We’ve landed safely,” he said, enunciating clearly because of the transmission interference. “We’re about to leave the shuttle.”

“–ake care, Mal-m.” For all that it was so badly broken up, the captain’s voice still carried a clear edge of worry.

The tactical officer nodded automatically in response. “Yes, sir. Reed out.” He cut the transmission and snapped off his seat belt. Everything they’d need for the mission was packed ready in a case in the rear of the shuttlepod. If everything went to plan, he and Travis would spend very little time in this alien version of Mordor, and would soon be back in the safety of _Enterprise_ , their own personal Shire.

 


	2. Chapter 2

No landing party under Malcolm Reed's command was going to be accused of a lack of caution. Even though EV suits weren't deemed necessary for this situation, he and Travis were wearing filter masks to protect their eyes, nose and mouth from ash and caustic fumes as they entered the tunnel.

Travis took a moment to look at the opening in the rock. “Doesn’t look artificial,” he commented, his voice muffled by the mask over his mouth. “Not like it’s been mined or anything.”

“No signs of explosives use,” agreed Malcolm, studying his hand-held scanner closely. “At a guess it’s natural. This area’s full of cracks, and there’s a lot of water down there. There’ll be a lot of tunnels farther down, probably carved out by water erosion.”

“Water?” said the other man in surprise. “There wasn’t a sign of it on the surface!”

“It would all have evaporated, I suppose. With all the SO2 interacting with the dust in the atmosphere, it probably turned into acid rain. Helped to carve out all these passages.”

“Great. Acid water, too. This sure is a welcoming place!”

“We were spoilt, evolving on Earth. Nice drinkable, unpolluted H2O.” He grinned. “I wouldn’t recommend trying to survive on what you’ll find here. Any water there is on the surface is basically going to be stuffed with sulphuric acid.”

“Remind me not to go swimming.” Travis shuddered theatrically.

“The underground stuff would probably be safe enough. Passing through rock acts as a filter – depending on what sort of rock it is of course. This seems to be some kind of variant on limestone, so that’s alkaline. Acidic water going through it would be neutralised. But it would still create multiple fissures.”

They started off down the tunnel. It narrowed fairly quickly, the roof remained high, and the thick layer of ash underfoot quickly grew shallower and presently ended. Walking became easier – up until now it had been like walking through deep snow – and the sound of their boots began to echo off the walls instead of being eerily silent.

The blockage was not far down the shaft. One of the tremors that regularly shook the region must have exploited a weakness in the stone and brought some of it down. Malcolm set down his case of supplies before taking detailed scans of the area. A couple of portable lamps provided adequate lighting for him to work. In the meantime Travis contacted the trapped Tellarites, who were in their own fashion extremely glad to hear that a rescue party had arrived, although they inevitably made it sound as if they were insulted to be rescued by Starfleet personnel.

The scans were not as reassuring as Malcolm would have hoped. He sighed as he surveyed the results. “I’m not going to be able to clear the whole tunnel. Some of this stuff is keeping a lot more up there. The best I can do is clear a narrow way through. I’m picking up tremors, and they’re getting stronger. It’s not going to help.”

“Couldn’t we wait 'til it goes quiet again?” asked Travis dubiously.

“If I had a crystal ball telling me how long the tremors were going to last and how bad they were going to get, that would be a great idea. Unfortunately, I haven’t. It was an earth tremor that brought this lot down. Another good one could finish the job and bury all of us.”

The two of them placed the charges carefully. Another message from Travis to the Tellarites warned them to keep a respectful distance, and to waste no time in using their escape route once it was cleared and they were given the go-ahead to use it.

“I’ve got better bloody things to do with my time than waste it rescuing thankless ignorant pigs like you lot,” Malcolm snarled, looking up from where he was setting the detonation device to ‘ready’ mode. “So haul your ugly arses out here the minute I tell you to – and not a minute before!”

“Well, wh–ver’d have ima-ned St-fleet emp-yed an –cer with the intel-gence to talk pr-erly!” jeered the voice through the crackle of static. “We –st hope y- know one –nd of a det-ator from the –ther!”

“Stand clear, and stand by.” Travis cut off the contact, wincing at the glare his superior officer directed at the communicator, which was really quite enough to melt it.

The two officers retreated back up the tunnel, as far as the next bend.

“We should be fine here.” Malcolm ran a last check over the detonator control device. All the ‘ready’ lights winked up at him cheerfully. The ground quivered a little underfoot, and he waited until it stilled again. “Don't forget, Ensign - keep your mouth open to protect your eardrums, just in case.  On my mark. Three, two, _one!_ ”

He pressed the command button. An instant later the sound of the explosion thundered towards them, along with the buffet of the shockwave contained by the walls. A cloud of dust came with it.

He was far too experienced to run forward impulsively, and stopped Travis from doing so. The scanners would tell him far more than his eyes could, and what was left of the rock pile needed a moment to settle, just as the dust did. Ideally, it needed considerably more than a moment, but instinct told him their time was running short.

The readings confirmed that he’d done what he intended to. Most of the fall was still intact, but low on one side, under a huge slab of stone that had fallen athwart the tunnel and would offer support, a small passage had been opened up.

Another tremor rumbled through the rock, considerably stronger than the last one. He checked the scanner again, but the escape route was holding.

“Better make this fast. _Really_ fast!”

The two of them ran back towards the collapse.

The hole was a little narrower than he’d hoped it might be, but it was evidently large enough, because even as they skidded to a halt in the lake of debris that had been blown clear, a dusty, hairy head emerged from it.

“Who the hell gave you permission to come through yet?” roared Malcolm, incensed. “Are you an even bigger idiot than you look?”

“I couldn’t possibly be a bigger one than you are!” The miner scrambled clear, rose to his feet and spoke defiantly. “Starfleet must have been really scraping the bottom of the barrel the day they recruited the likes of you!”

A second Tellarite followed hard on his heels, also covered in dust that was helping the blood from a dozen cuts and scratches to congeal. It was a safe bet that neither of them had kept anything like the respectful distance from the blast that they’d been ordered to.

“Well, at least we’ve got them out,” said Travis hastily. He leaned over to peer into the hole. “Where’s the other guy?”

“Fetching something. He’ll be along in a minute.” The first Tellarite looked shifty, as far as it was possible to be sure of any expression on a face that seemed to be set in lines that virtually embodied surliness and suspicion.

 _“‘Fetching something’?”_ demanded Reed incredulously, as another quake rumbled through the earth and loose pieces spattered down from the ceiling. “Are you all stark, staring, bloody _mad?_ ”

“We’re not losing our profits!” snarled the second man.

Even considerations of conduct becoming of a Starfleet officer couldn’t stifle the pungent expression that escaped from Malcolm’s lips. He glared at Travis. “Escort these men to the shuttlepod, Ensign,” he snapped. “Make them help you with the equipment. Use whatever means you have to. I'll fetch the last one and follow you!”

The younger man was obviously reluctant, but he knew when to argue and when to give in. He nodded. “Sir.”

Hoping Travis wouldn't have to use his phase pistol to get the two Tellarites moving, Malcolm turned away to crawl into the narrow channel between the boulders just as another tremor began. The way the stone quivered under his hands and knees made his guts liquefy with fear, but the rocks held steady, and after a few seconds the shaking died away again. He swallowed, shook his head, and began scrambling forward, dragging the flashlight from its clip at his belt just in case.

The blockage was some four metres deep, and it was mere moments before he wriggled his way out from between two jagged lumps of rock. By the light of his flashlight he beheld the third Tellarite, busily removing lumps of something from an almost man-size canister and stuffing it into what looked like backpacks. The only other illumination was provided by a lamp wedged into a crevice, but this was sufficient to glance off crystalline planes in the rocks.

Another tremor rattled the tunnel. This was a strong one. The heap of boulders groaned and shifted, and one of them tumbled down to smash into the floor, where it burst into flying fragments.

Cursing, Malcolm seized the Tellarite by the shoulder and spun him around. “Leave those blasted rocks and get out of here,” he hissed. “I won’t tell you twice!”

He thought at first the roaring was the sound of his own blood in his ears, but as the rock started to shake under his boots he realised that the earth-tremor wasn’t fading, but strengthening. He swung his flashlight, trying to determine where the safest part of the tunnel would be to take shelter, but its light illuminated thin, terrifying spurts of water bursting through one of the rapidly spreading cracks in the wall opposite him.

 _“Run!”_ he screamed. He gave the Tellarite an almighty shove in the back to get him to move, but they were both caught up in the blast of freezing water as the wall and part of the roof gave way.


	3. Chapter 3

Malcolm was slammed into the opposite wall and swept away by the force of the rushing water, though not before he’d seen a huge chunk of rock collapse across the spot where the miner had been and a cascade of smaller pieces follow it. He had no time to see whether there as was anything left of the tunnel, for within moments he was fighting for his life, tumbling over and over in the blackness. He kept hold of his flashlight somehow, the one solid thing in a world that had suddenly become liquid, but it offered him no aid other than to give him glimpses of the walls into which he was intermittently hurled with bruising force. What he needed was air, and he hardly knew which way was up, let alone if there might be any space left between the surface of the water and the tunnel down which he was being borne. Certainly the volume of water was colossal; it might well fill the shaft completely. If that was the case, he was a dead man.

Drowning...

The certainty of his worst nightmare coming true seized him like madness. He struck out wildly, blindly, too filled with terror to have the faintest idea of direction. It was luck alone that brought him to the surface, and a tiny oasis of air in a desert of wet death.

There was a small, rough ledge on the wall beside which he surfaced. He grabbed it and clung on with shaking, chilled fingers, drawing in great gulps of precious air and trying not to drop the flashlight. He knew he couldn’t hang on much longer; the drag of the water on his body was too strong, and his grip with cold fingers on a precarious handhold too weak. He only had minutes before he was swept away again.

His mask had been torn off, but the air here was relatively breathable. There was no perceptible smell, so if there was any sulphur dioxide present, it must be in very small amounts. At least there was no stinging sensation in his eyes, and the water, for all its ferocity, appeared to be relatively neutral in acidity.

_Leave a sign._ He couldn’t leave the flashlight; it might yet prove his salvation. Likewise his scanner and his phase pistol. His mind skittered frantically over the options and then inspiration struck. He wedged the flashlight temporarily on the ledge and, hanging on desperately with his left hand, fumbled his communicator out of his coverall pocket with his right.

“Reed to _Enterprise_ , come in!”

There was no reply. He'd known there wouldn’t be. Nevertheless he tried again, casting his hope and his anguish out to his ship and his friends, praying they could hear him even if they couldn’t answer.

 “Reed to _Enterprise_ , mayday. _Enterprise_ , please respond!”

Nothing.

He knew he was going to lose his grip and be carried deeper underground. The communicator would be even less use down there, but there was a chance _Enterprise_ might pick up its carrier signal if he left the device here. It cost him a pang to set it down, knowing it was his best chance of being located by a scanner if he kept it, but at least when the water subsided – it would have to drain eventually – a rescue party would find it.

He probably wouldn’t be in any condition to use his communicator anyway, he thought despondently, not by the time he finally washed up wherever he was going. At least here it would indicate he’d still been alive at this point and in what direction he’d been carried. As he’d told Travis earlier, there was every likelihood that the ground far below was a warren of watercourses. He might find places where it was a warren of magma fissures, too; there had to be a huge amount of volcanic material very close to the surface to keep a volcano active for so many years. This pressure of water would be enough to force itself a long, long way down. And if the two met...

Drowned, burned or scalded to death in a steam explosion. He'd have picked drowning if he hadn’t had nightmares about it all his life, but neither of the other alternatives sounded all that pleasant a way to go, either.

He put the communicator in what looked like the safest place, and got a better grip on the flashlight. A brave man would have let go at this point, but the prospect of being once more abandoned to that roiling current sapped any courage he might ever have laid claim to. He rested his face on his hands, feeling the water tugging inexorably at his body and his fingernails slipping on the wet stone.

“I still don't want to die, Trip,” he murmured.

The sound of his own voice reminded him of what was due from a Starfleet officer and a Reed. He dragged the back of one wet hand across his eyes, sniffed hard, and tried to compose himself. If this was the finish, he should meet it with as much dignity as he could muster, not snivelling like the arrant coward his father thought him.

He hung on as long as he could, clawing at his handhold while the water dragged at him and leached the warmth from his body, beckoning him to stop struggling and surrender. He even tried to hang on with his teeth, but the cold slowly took him. He grew a little less afraid, realizing it would be easier to drown than to go on prolonging a useless struggle.

When the inevitable happened and his fingernails scraped for the last time across the wet stone and found no purchase, he cried out once before the current took him under. Then it was back to fighting for his life, except that now he was far colder and weaker, and the movements of his limbs were that much less powerful. The flow had become steadier, so that he was able to retain some idea of where the surface was, and once or twice he found it. But each time the water was practically at the roof, and there were no handholds. A gasping swallow of air and water and he was down again, exhausted and powerless.

As he struggled to the surface one last time, he became aware that the ceiling was gone and the current was slowing significantly. He managed to draw in enough breath to allow him to float, hoping to rest just a little and recover his strength. A weak swing of the flashlight showed that the tunnel had opened into a huge cave, and where there was a cave, there might be a place he could haul out on.

Hope, all but dead, revived tentatively. If he could get out of the water, there were ways to provide himself with enough warmth to survive: he had his phase pistol. On the high setting, he could use it to heat rocks. Sooner or later, the water would subside and the ship’s crew would come looking for him. He only had to find some way to hang on until that happened.

He rolled in the water and played the flashlight around, hoping to find a little high ground or even a beach. The light glanced off a shelf of rock just a few feet away. It wasn’t long or wide, but it was big enough for him. If he could just rest for a little while, he might be able to find something better later.

He had almost no warning of the attack except the pressure wave. Before he could react, teeth sank into the muscle of his left thigh. His hoarse shriek of agony echoed off the ceiling. Then he was being dragged under and shaken like a rat. He fought back, striking out in a blind frenzy at whatever it was that had him.

Although his blows fell on what felt like rubber, one smash with the handle of the flashlight sank unexpectedly into something. The jaws gripping his leg tightened as though in pain and then opened, and the water churned as something very large moved away quickly, presumably to nurse its injuries.

Too exhausted to care whether it might return or whether there might be more than one, he let himself be washed against the shelf. His leg hurt like hell, and he didn’t need a scanner to tell him that the wounds he’d sustained were bleeding profusely. But he had to get out of the water before he could think about doing anything. In agonizing pain, he managed to pull himself up and crawl onto the shelf ~~.~~

He knew he had to get warm. He knew how dangerous it was to go to sleep soaking wet and freezing cold, lying on bare rock within easy reach of ... something ... that only needed to put its head out of the water and drag him back in to his death. But he simply hadn’t the energy left to worry about it.

_“Reed to_ Enterprise, _come in,_ ” he muttered as he put his head down on his saturated sleeve. Just a little rest. Only a minute or two. Just 'til he’d got a bit of his strength back. He wasn’t going to go to sleep, he told himself. That would be the absolute worst thing to do.

The blood leaked slowly out of the wounds in his thigh, spreading into a thick, viscous pool on the stone. His temperature continued its stealthy fall. And he began to feel strangely warm, and very nearly comfortable.

Some fragmentary awareness of danger touched him briefly. He lifted his head, but the cave wall in the flashlight beam was fuzzy and he was too tired to think about it any more. _“Mayday,”_ he mumbled, and put his head down again. His dark lashes drooped towards his cheek. He didn’t notice when the flashlight slipped from his hand and rolled quietly into the lake, where it tumbled into the depths and fell into a crevice that all but hid its light from view.

Lieutenant Malcolm Reed lay alone in the dark, dying.


	4. Chapter 4

“You are very lucky to be alive. You took an absurd risk for a ridiculous reason. What good will pieces of stone do you when you’re dead?”

Phlox's voice was as stern as Jon had ever heard it as he and Trip walked into sickbay, but it also portended good news. The surgery on the last miner to be extricated had obviously been successful if Phlox could lecture his patient, who had sustained several broken ribs, a shattered collar bone and a fractured skull. But for the fact that the piece of rock that had fallen on him had partially lodged against the wall, he would have been crushed completely. It had been something of a miracle that he had been able to struggle out through a gap in the boulders, with the rushing water sweeping him through the tunnel towards the surface. There he was dragged out of the flood by Travis and his fellows.

Normally, Phlox would be the picture of solicitude with a patient. Jon knew, however, that the doctor was venting his ire over a search that had gone so disastrously wrong.

The patient had the grace to look slightly abashed, though the expression looked odd on the hirsute, porcine face. “What would you know about it? You’re the most useless physician I’ve ever encountered. We wouldn’t employ you on a garbage scow. No wonder they took you on to look after these stupid, ugly humans on this rubbish-heap of a ship!”

“Easy, Trip,” murmured the captain, putting a hand on his chief engineer’s arm as Trip’s fists clenched. “You know it’s just the way they talk.”

“Doesn’t make it any easier to listen to,” muttered Trip. “If we didn’t need him to tell us what happened, I’d say throw him in the brig and forget about him.”

“Unfortunately, that’s exactly what we do need.” Squaring his shoulders, Jon stepped forward.

The Tellarite’s gaze switched to him. “My, here’s a couple of them now. I’d heard you were revolting, but you’re even worse than I imagined.”

 _“_ Sonofabitch! _Ugly,_ comin’ from you–!”

“Trip!”

Under the scorching look from his superior, the chief engineer shut his mouth like a trap. It did not, however, do much to abate the expression of barely restrained hostility as he took up position on the far side of the bio-bed.

“My name is Captain Jonathan Archer,” the captain began, folding his arms and fixing the patient with a look that wasn’t much friendlier than Trip's. “I believe yours is Nraat.”

“Not that that’s any business of yours,” said the miner pugnaciously.

“When you’re the one person who can tell me exactly what happened to my tactical officer, mister, I’m _making_ it my business!”

“Who asked him to butt in?” cried Nraat indignantly. “I was only trying to defray some of the costs of the expedition!”

“‘Butt in’!” roared Trip. “He was tryin’ to save your goddamn worthless _life!_ ”

“Nobody asked him to,” came the sullen reply.

“He didn’t need to be _asked._ He believed it was his _job._ ” Jon realized that he was speaking as if Malcolm was dead, and corrected himself hurriedly. “He’s a valuable Starfleet officer, and if we want to get him back alive – which we do – then we need to know exactly what happened. And _you_ –” He leaned menacingly over the patient, ignoring Phlox’s look of professional indignation “–are going to tell me!”

Nraat subsided onto the pillows. His mouth folded in a look of obstinacy. “This planet is in Tellarite space. You’re trespassers. I don’t have to tell you anything.”

Trip spoke up again. “Look. We’re not askin’ for state secrets here. We just need to know–”

“I’m not telling you anything!”

Jon stared down at the obstinate alien in mingled frustration and bewilderment. This man was the only person who’d been a witness to what had happened. The other two miners – currently residing in guest quarters and under guard – might have been more cooperative, but they didn’t have the information he needed so desperately. “If you’re worried we’ll press charges–”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

The captain’s own hard-held wrath ignited. “Keep this up, mister, and you’ll find out what I wouldn’t _dare_. You’re on board my ship, under my authority. I answered your distress call and risked my officers to save your worthless hides, and now one of them is missing and in danger. You’re too damn stupid to know just how far you’re pushing your luck. I’ll give you ten minutes to think it over, and when I come back, you’d better be feeling a whole lot more cooperative!”

Trip at his back, Jon stormed into the corridor. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could look at that stubborn expression without wanting to plant his fist in it.

As he’d anticipated, a wrathful Phlox followed him out.

“Captain, I must protest–!”

“I know what you’re going to say, Phlox. You think I like having to do this? Malcolm Reed is _missing._ He’s got to be in grave danger. I’ve let two volunteers go down to join Travis looking for him, and T'Pol says that volcano looks like it’s cranking up its act. And that’s even _without_ the fact that that star out there could decide to fry us any minute! Every second we waste is increasing the risk this is going to turn from a rescue into a tragedy. Frankly, I don’t have the time to spare to play nice with a Tellarite.”

“What the hell is wrong with that guy?” demanded Trip. “Why won’t he just tell us what happened? Did they have a fight or something?”

Jon scowled. “Malcolm would be too professional to start something like that.”

“I wouldn't say he’d _start_ one, Cap’n, but he’d sure _end_ one.”

“The patient made no mention of any assault,” the doctor put in. “I'm sure he would have said something if there had been. As a matter of fact, I’m somewhat surprised he hasn’t decided to press charges for being rescued and operated on without his consent.”

“It probably hasn’t occurred to him yet.” Jon's scowl changed to a grin as he said, “I’ve got an idea. Are his things here in Sickbay? Everything he had when they brought him up?”

“Certainly.” Phlox looked puzzled for a moment, and then a smile of Denobulan proportions spread across his face. “Ah.”

The three men turned and re-entered Sickbay.

Nraat’s face turned in their direction. His truculent expression changed to one of acute unease when they went to the cabinet where his things had been placed. On top of his clothes, which had been cleaned and dried, was the single backpack he’d still been clutching when he was pulled out of the water. The way he’d held on to it until anaesthetized suggested it was extremely valuable to him. Jon picked it up.

“What – what are you doing with that?” Nraat demanded.

“Foreign material,” said Jon. “Very strict regulations about what we’re allowed to bring on board a starship. Have to get it checked out – and if it doesn’t conform, we’ll have to jettison it immediately.”

It was difficult to be sure under all that ingrained dirt, but it seemed that the Tellarite paled. _“J-Jettison it?”_ he stuttered. “You’re not serious!”

“Never more so.” Jon tipped the bag's contents on to a table top. Chunks of stone, full of blades of some kind of crystal that reflected light with a deep green gleam, thudded dully on the table. “Can’t say this looks familiar,” he mused. “I’ll have to take it over to the Science lab to find out what it is. They have a disposal facility there if necessary.”

“No! I – that’s my property! The property of the Tellarite Mining Consortium! You’ve no right to touch it!”

“You’re on board my ship. Right here, _I_ call the shots. And right now, I say that this is unauthorized material and if I say it has no place on board, out it goes. If the Tellarite Mining Consortium wants it, they can come get it – whatever’s left of it after it burns up in the atmosphere!” Jon turned on his heel.

The Tellarite's shriek stopped him before he reached the doors. “I’ll tell you what you want to know! Nothing happened, nothing! He found me – he tried to stop me bringing out the minerals we’d found. There was a tremor. It brought the wall down. I think he was washed away. Everything happened so quickly, I can’t be sure.”

“That’s _all?_ Why in hell wouldn’t you just tell us that in the first place?” shouted Trip.

The miner’s gaze fell. He muttered something, the only word of which they caught was 'unauthorized.'

“You weren’t supposed to be there at all?” demanded the captain. “Why not?”

The Tellarite's hesitation lasted a second too long. Jon turned back to the doorway.

“No wait! The government put a ban on underground exploration down there.  We discovered centuries ago that it has some huge underground lakes with their own ecosystem, but no-one ever found out much more than that.  I tried to find out the details, but it’s classified. All I could get was that there’s some kind of danger associated with the caves. That’s all, I swear it!”

“And you didn’t see anything, or hear anything unusual, when you were down there?”

Another shifty look. “Nothing definite.”

“Whatever you saw, or thought you saw, I want to know. It may be the difference between me getting my officer back in one piece or me ordering this junk put in the nearest airlock and spaced!”

“It was close to one of the caves,” Nraat said sullenly. “Tgrel said he saw something moving, like a shadow. Then he said there was more than one. So we ran.”

“A shadow. That’s it?”

Nraat shrugged. “That’s what he said. You’ll have to ask him.”

“It didn’t attack you? Or follow you?” Trip asked urgently. “You didn’t see anythin’ yourself? Or hear anythin’?”

The miner shook his head. “I’ve told you all I know. But I’ll admit, I did feel scared.” He fixed a pleading glance on the backpack that the captain was still holding. “Captain, those stones are worth a fortune!”

“Enough for you to ignore your government’s ban on explorin’ the planet to begin with,” said Trip disgustedly. “You just had to go diggin’ up the place!”

“At least now we know why there was no ship in orbit,” observed Jon. “That would be too obvious that someone was somewhere they shouldn’t be.” He tossed the pack on to the nearest counter. “This can stay on the ship.”

“Thank you,” muttered Nraat.

Jon stared at the Tellarite. “I'll be handing you and your friends over to your government as soon as we can organize a rendezvous after all this is over. I'm sure this will be useful as evidence.” With a glacial smile he turned and walked out of Sickbay.

“Haven’t heard anything from Travis yet,” remarked Trip as he followed the captain down the corridor. “Kind of ironic ~~,~~ that you told Malcolm to keep him out of trouble, and Malcolm was the one who ended up in it.”

“That had occurred to me,” the captain said wearily. As much as the possibility of losing an officer worried him, he knew Trip must be feeling worse. The engineer and Malcolm had developed a strong friendship while serving together on _Enterprise_. “I’m going to see if the other two can add anything to what our friend back there had to say. Then when I get back to the Bridge, I’ll have Hoshi pass on the information to the landing party about what we’ve heard. If our people on the planet's surface have any news, I’ll make sure you hear about it.”

Trip nodded. “After what you told us about the chances of us needin’ to make a quick getaway, I'll make sure the engine's at a hundred percent, just in case we need it.”

“You do that.” Jon slapped him on the shoulder and gave him a rueful smile. “And keep your fingers crossed.”


	5. Chapter 5

There was almost no sound in the cavern. The breaths of the dying man were so slow and shallow that even the most attentive echo could hardly have detected them. Now and again a ripple lapped against stone, but for the most part, there was silence.

The voices did not break it.

_> >A dreamer.>>_

_< <He is alone.>>_

_< <He is almost unself.>>_

_< <His self-water is draining. There, on the makes-move.>>_

They all contemplated the ugly, jagged wounds on the thigh.

_< <A huntsinwater must have inteethed him.>>_

_< <It should have unselfed him.>>_

_< <It did not.>>_

_< <He can be ours.>>_

There was a ripple of disquiet, of anxiety.

_< <The other dreamers will come wantfinding him.>>_

They considered that.

_< <They did not protect him. They cannot value him.>>_

This was reassuring. It was entirely reasonable, after all; why else would he be lying here, with his self-water draining away?

_< <We will protect him. We will value him.>>_

The thought brought approval. They did not like the thought of the dreamer abandoned by the other dreamers and left to unself alone in the dark.

_< <He must not unself. He is ours now.>>_

There was a single, gentle splash.

And then silence.


	6. Chapter 6

_“_ -ise _to L- -eed, please resp-”_

Travis found the communicator on a high shelf of rock.

He’d been searching for what felt like hours, which wasn't helped by the bulky, uncomfortable EV suit he was wearing. The suit not only protected him from hazardous fumes but prevented the cold water still running through the tunnels from giving him hypothermia. And while the suit would guard him from the heat generated by magma if he kept his distance, it had limits; direct contact would result in one very melted ensign. He'd have to keep that latter fact in mind, as the tunnels appeared to be heading for the bowels of the volcano.

Ensign Em Gomez from the Armory and Lieutenant Anna Hess from Engineering were with him when they came to a split in the tunnel, and then another.  The water been thigh-deep at first, but by now it had subsided to below the level of their knees and was considerably easier to walk through. The women each took one of the new routes, keeping in contact with Travis and the ship using the communication system built into their suits. Travis knew that, although the transmissions between them were clearer than those with the ship, the interference would get worse as they ventured farther apart.

It had been the sound of Hoshi’s voice calling desperately in the gloom ahead of him that had brought him sloshing forward at a run, hope rising in him that he might find the missing lieutenant – injured, maybe, since he wasn’t answering the hail, but alive. He couldn’t face the thought that Malcolm might be dead.

But he had found neither a casualty nor a corpse, only the communicator wedged on the shelf. Of the owner there was no sign. The chances were that it had been placed there deliberately to keep it above the water.

“Lieutenant!” he shouted, bending to peer along the undulating surface of the water that glittered in the light of his flashlight.

_“..tenant ...enant ... ant,”_ the echoes of his voice, the only reply to his call, mocked him.

He closed the communicator and tucked it into a storage compartment on his EV suit, bolstering himself with the determination that somehow it would be returned to the man to whom it belonged. Then he activated his EV suit's comm system. “ _Enterprise,_ come in.”

There was no reply.  Realizing he must be in one of the denser patches of rock, he walked back a little way and tried again.  This time, to his relief, there was a reply.

_“En-ise.”_

“Sir, I can hardly hear you. I hope you can hear me better.” He tried to keep his voice upbeat. “I’ve found Lieutenant Reed’s communicator. It looks like he put it where it could be found on purpose, but there’s no sign of him. I’ll go on looking.”

_“Tr–is, we’ve fou– someth–g out. Ther– some –ind of –ife form in the –aves. We don– know if it –ses a dan–er, but I –nt you to be –reful.”_

The tunnel suddenly seemed considerably darker, though doubtless it was just an effect of the garbled, rather unnerving message. Travis swung his flashlight to and fro, but there was nothing to be seen. “I'm fine so far, sir. I haven't seen anything unusual.” Still, he dropped his free hand to check the weapon nestled in its clip at his thigh.

_“The vol–ano –ms to be tak–g a breather right –ow, but I’m –ting a time limit on –is o–ration. After half an hour, you’re to tu– round and make your –ay back to the sh–lepod. – that’s an or–er.”_

“Understood, sir,” the helmsman said heavily. “We won’t take any chances. Mayweather out.”

Before he started wading again, Travis took a second and much longer look around. He was accustomed to caving as well as climbing, so the confined spaces didn’t bother him, but the thought of some kind of unknown life form that might be hostile wasn’t exactly pleasant. It was consoling to imagine that the flood might have swept it out of the region, but then he had no idea what sort of creature lived down here. It must be used to some damn hard conditions if it survived in this place.

He opened the helmet's intercom channel to contact the other two members of the search party to pass on the information he had gotten from the captain.

“ _Lo que será, será_.” He could almost see Em shrug after he'd told her about the mysterious life forms. “I have seen nothing so far.”

“Me, neither.” Anna’s drawl was unconcerned. “I’ve found a couple of caves, but all there was in them was water.”

“Makes you wonder where it’s all going.” He shone the flashlight farther along the tunnel, but the passageway curved to the right in another twenty meters or so. “You better know, I’ve just found the lieutenant’s communicator on a ledge out of the water. Seems like he came this way and left us a clue.”

“ _Gracias a Dios!_ We will make our way back and join you!”

“No, wait, Em,” Anna interrupted. “There was a place about twenty meters back from me where there was a side tunnel that looked like it linked up to yours, so check that out first rather than going all the way back to the first junction. I’ll wait for you there. We’ve got to move fast, especially since the captain says he only wants us to give it another half an hour and then go back to the shuttlepod.”

There was a brief, startled silence. _“¡Iremos? Asi?_ Just _leave_ him? _”_

“Em, he never had much chance.” Anna’s voice was level and quiet. “We could search forever down here and never find his body.”

“So, we are just giving up?” shouted the Armory deputy. “Giving up, on a man who would never give up on us?”

“Ensign,” said Anna, who outranked the security officer, “we’re obeying orders, and Lieutenant Reed would be the first to tell you that’s your duty.”

Travis was glad he hadn't had to be the one to tell Em that, wincing as a scalding torrent of Spanish invective burst from the speakers in his helmet. Em’s fiery temperament was legendary, and it was fortunate that Anna Hess was of a very forbearing nature. One didn’t have to speak fluent Spanish to know that the content of the transmission did not indicate cheerful compliance.

“I am going to join Travis,” announced Em, winding up her speech defiantly. “And we are going to find Lieutenant Reed, and _then_ we will return to the ship!”

“We’ll both join him,” said Anna. Her voice now took on a steelier note. “And we’ll search for another half-hour, exactly as the captain ordered. And then we are going to turn around and leave. Is that clear?”

The pause before a reply was too long. _“_ Ensign, I’ve given you an order. I expect you to obey it, and apart from anything else, we’re wasting time. _Is that clear, Ensign Gomez?”_

As the other woman fairly ground out the required assent, Travis shook his head, toned down the volume on the channel and began sloshing his way deeper down the tunnel.

The floor, although invisible under the water, was smooth, evidently washed clean by the flooding. He was able to keep up a good pace, and it was only a few moments before he turned the corner, expecting to see yet more of the same bare, water-scoured channel through the rock. Instead, the darkness almost swallowed the beams of his helmet lamp and flashlight, only faintly illuminating boulders at the far side of a huge cave.

Moving with enormous care, testing every footstep, he advanced towards where the tunnel opened into the cave. It was unlikely that the floor would continue to be level. A meter short of the entrance, he stopped and took out his scanner.

The readings now were relatively clear. The cave was simply huge, and the floor – as he had suspected – plunged sharply. In places the ceiling rose to the height of a modest cathedral.  An opening beyond those boulders again led to further caves, all flooded like this one.

He had no attention to spare for that, however.  About half way across the cave, on the right-hand side, there was a human bio-sign.

His heart beating suddenly faster with wild relief, Travis switched on his external audio. “Lieutenant!” he shouted, hearing the sound echo repeatedly in the vast dark space. “Lieutenant Reed!” and then, greatly daring, _“Malcolm!”_

There was no reply. Nor did any of the readings from the bio-sign change. The missing officer was lying completely still. But the important thing was that he was still alive and he could still be rescued. It would require more personnel and additional equipment, but if conditions remained favorable, Travis was fairly certain that the captain would deploy both.

He hurriedly put away his scanner, but before he could tell the others of his discovery, he saw something moving in front of him.

He moved backwards a step, trying to pick out any additional detail with his flashlight. He saw nothing, but his brain retained the certainty that there had been _something_ there, close to eye-level. He shone the light on the surface of the lake that covered the floor of the cave; it was glass-smooth, undulating only where the current from the tunnel flowed in. No help there.

“Hello?” he said uncertainly, playing the flashlight around again.

The external microphone was picking up something. He could hear what sounded like the wind whispering through leaves. Still there was no sign of anything that could be responsible for it – though it was always possible that somehow a stray current of air was feeding down from above and moving across some fault or other in the stone to produce it. He was well aware of the multitude of strange noises that caves can produce quite naturally.

His gaze picked out movement again, this time to his left. Once again the flashlight beam found nothing. The whispering, however, had grown louder. It was not like anything he had ever heard. It was in multiple pitches, though the variations were extremely slight. He could only compare it to the whispering of many voices, though without any detectable words.

There came with it, too, a sensation of hostility. The voices – if that was indeed what they were – had little to do with it. It was more the kind of shiver down the back that the sixth sense produces. He wasconvinced that he was in real danger, and that to remain where he was would be foolhardy.

But retreating meant leaving Malcolm at the mercy of whatever was in there. The tactical officer was unconscious, probably injured, perhaps seriously. There was no way Malcolm could protect himself at the moment. They couldn't leave him here.

“Hey, I don’t mean any harm!” Travis spread his arms, trying to project a non-threatening appearance.

The voices went on whispering. And now there was movement again, though his eyes still couldn’t grasp it. It was nothing solid, merely the appearance of light bending through … something … above the surface of the water in the cave. More than one something, although it could just be different parts of one large something moving independently.

The hostility intensified. Finally it came at him in an almost tangible pulse, as though an invisible tiger had padded up to him and hissed straight in his face.

Fear, orders, sense, and shame warred in him. Fear, orders, and sense all dictated the same course of action. Shame held his boots rooted to the floor just long enough to shout out once more, hoping that there would be a reply from inside the cavern. The moment the words left his mouth, he was struck by the thought that calling out might not have been the best idea. Maybe these … things … hadn’t noticed Malcolm yet. Maybe they thought he didn’t pose any threat, and waking him up would change that. And he was in no position to beat a hasty retreat.

There was no answer.

“I’m sorry, Malcolm,” he groaned. He turned around and began walking back up the tunnel as fast as he could, the palpable hostility pushing him on. Every couple of steps, he turned back and checked, but there was no one following. The sound of the whispers faded and died, and the cold feeling between his shoulder blades slowly diminished. When at last he dared to stop and listen, there was no sound at all except for the soft hush of the water still steadily draining down the tunnel and washing almost silently around his legs. It was a little shallower now, hardly up to the middle of his shins. He hesitated, wanting to go back to help Malcolm, but knowing he needed backup, advice, and most importantly of all, _company_.

The glow of flashlight beams up ahead a few minutes later told him that Anna and Em were about to join him. He toggled his internal audio on and found that at least they weren’t arguing.

“Hey!” He hurried to join them as they appeared around the corner. “Don’t come down here.”

The two women stopped and stared at him before speaking simultaneously.

“What’s up, Ensign?” Anna asked.

“Have you found the lieutenant?” added Em.

“Yes.” He had answered Em, because that was obviously the most important question, but they could see from his face that things weren’t that simple.

Even in the blue light inside the helmet, he saw the blood drain from Em's face. “Not _–”_

“No, he’s alive,” he assured her hastily. “But there’s a problem.”

“Trapped? Badly hurt?” She peered around his shoulder. “ _Vamos! Rápidamente!”_

“No. Em, we can’t.” He grabbed her upper arms to stop her plunging past him. “He’s in a cave – a huge cave full of water. I think he’s unconscious, but I couldn’t get to him. For one thing, the water’s probably too deep. And for another– _”_ He took a deep breath. “ _–_ Ithink those life-forms the captain mentioned are down there.”

“And you left him with them?” Her eyes blazed.

“Steady, Em.” Anna laid a hand on the Armory officer’s shoulder. “I’m guessing Travis wouldn’t have done that unless he thought he had no choice.”

“Not a chance,” he said emphatically, stung by the implication that he’d turned tail and run at the first hint of danger. “Whatever they were, they sure didn’t want me around. If I hadn’t gotten out when I did, I don’t think I’d be alive still.”

“So what _were_ they, Ensign?” asked Anna, turning to him. “You think three of us could take them on?”

“I don’t have a clue what they were, Lieutenant.” He gulped slightly with distress, but her matter-of-fact tone helped to bolster him. “There was this noise – like whispering – and I could see something, like ghosts, shadows… but there didn’t seem to be anything casting them. It was like they were just floating…”

“Shadows?” demanded Em. “How could you see shadows in the dark?”

“That was it. I couldn’t see them properly to know _what_ they were. There was just … something there.” He waved a hand, trying to convey how vague the impression had been. “Then I started getting this awful feeling like they didn’t want me there. It was horrible. Honestly, I just know they wanted me out of there, and if I didn’t get out…” He gulped again.

“You did the right thing,” Anna told him. “Was there anything else?”

“I shouted to Lieutenant Reed, but he didn’t answer. Then I got the hell out.” He didn’t look at Em; he didn’t dare see what would almost certainly be written across her face. “I didn’t _want_ to leave him. But I don’t think we could get to him, even if we went down there and those things let us try. It’s flooded. We’d need some kind of boat.”

“Then we go back to the ship, we tell the captain what’s happened and we let him make the decisions,” said Anna decisively.

“‘Go back’?” echoed Em incredulously. “ _Por todos los diablos_ , without even _trying?”_

“Without risking three more lives, along with Lieutenant Reed’s if we fail,” the Engineering officer replied flatly. “I’m sorry, Em.”

The two women stared at each other. Travis saw the struggle in Em’s face, but it was she who looked away first, plainly bowing to the authority that her boss in the Armory would have been the first to uphold. She didn’t have to like it, and it was obvious she didn’t like it at all, but she would obey the order of a superior officer.

The three of them began the long journey back up to the surface.


	7. Chapter 7

The atmosphere in the shuttlepod during the flight back to the ship was tense. Only the combined weight of Anna's higher rank and Travis’s testimony had sufficed to persuade Em to abandon the rescue attempt. She sat at the weapons console scowling and silent.

As the shuttlepod shuddered slightly from the gentle touch of the ship’s docking clamp, Anna directed a cuff at the rigid shoulder of her friend. “Okay, Em, stop lashing your tail. Or at least promise me you won’t bite the captain.”

That got her a reluctant grin. “I could not go down again and have a little conversation with these ‘shadows’ if I was thrown in the brig for biting the _capitán._ So yes, I will behave myself.”

Glancing at her glittering dark eyes, Travis imagined that the ‘little conversation’ that Em was planning to have wouldn’t exactly be conducted along standard diplomatic lines.

The lights on the console indicated that they were safely back on board _Enterprise_ , and in the brief interval while the launch bay repressurized, Travis carried out the post-flight checks. He’d done them so often that everything was done by the time the door at the side hissed open to reveal the captain, impatient for the detailed report that atmospheric conditions on the planet hadn’t allowed.

With the captain was T'Pol, as well as Trip and one of his engineers, Michael Rostov. The latter two got to work prepping the shuttlepod for a possible return trip. Travis noted that Trip remained close enough to hear everything as Anna gave her report to the captain.

“We believe we found Lieutenant Reed. Or rather, Ensign Mayweather established his whereabouts. We were unable to reach him, because of the dangers of the environment and because Ensign Mayweather had a hostile encounter with the life-forms the Tellarites mentioned.”

Captain Archer's gaze flicked to Travis. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, sir.” The pilot smiled a little wanly. “I think they were just warning me off.”

 “Could you ascertain Lieutenant Reed's condition?” T'Pol asked him.

“No, ma’am. I didn’t actually see him.” He gave a brief rundown of what had happened in the cave, but he was stumped when it came to describing the life-forms. “They weren’t … solid. It was like seeing something was there by the way the light changed. There wasn’t any color. And there was this whispering. Sort of like voices. And they were angry. They didn’t like me being there.”

T'Pol raised an eyebrow. “They said this?”

“No.” He knew it sounded ridiculous, but he swallowed and went on. “I could just feel it. I think they came real close to attacking me. But when I left, they didn’t follow me.”

“Do you think they may have attacked Malcolm?” asked the captain.

Travis spread his hands. “I don’t know, sir.” He paused, his eyes wide as he held the captain's gaze. “Sir, my scanner reading showed Lieutenant Reed was alive.”

Em snapped to rigid attention. “Permission to take a team down and attempt a rescue in force, sir!”

“Permission denied,” the captain said. At her mutinous look, he added emphatically, “For the present, Ensign.”

Em glared, but said nothing.

“Cap’n, you can’t just leave him there,” protested Trip, giving up all pretense of checking the plasma vents on the shuttlepod.

“I didn’t say I was planning on leaving him there.” The captain frowned. “Travis, you say these creatures had voices? They tried to talk to you?”

“I can’t be sure, sir. They didn’t sound like any voices I’ve ever heard. We’ll have to get Hoshi to listen–” He stopped with a groan. “I’d put my scanner away before it started.”

“So no recordings.” Captain Archer sighed. “Travis, you'll pilot on the way back down. I'm going to have Phlox and Hoshi come along with us.” A faint glimmer of amusement lit Jon's eyes as he looked at the Armory officer, who was standing ramrod straight, staring straight in front of her. “You, too, Ensign Gomez. You'd probably stow away if you weren't included.”

*      *      *

 “I guess it’s pretty obvious why I’d like you two to tag along, but given the danger I don’t think it’s appropriate to order you.”

Hoshi glanced at Phlox standing next to her in the launch bay. The doctor nodded, and she turned back to the captain. “You don't have to, sir. I think we'd both be happy to join the rescue attempt.”

Slightly taken aback by the speed of her response – after all, they would be going into one hell of a confined space, and she suffered from claustrophobia – Travis studied her. Her face was slightly flushed, though her eyes on the captain’s were steady.

He’d had his suspicions occasionally that there was something going on between Hoshi and Malcolm, but had never managed to unearth any evidence.

_Could_ it be true…? If it was, it would be a powerful motive for her to be so willing to endure a mission like this.

… But whether it was or it wasn’t, this was no time to be wondering about it.

“Make whatever preparations you need,” Captain Archer told them. “As soon as Trip gives us the all-clear that the shuttlepod’s fit to go, we’re out of here.”

Trip popped out from under one of the pod's inspection panels. “Just a few things we need to finish up,” the chief engineer said. “One of these intake valves could use replacin’. Must have flown through some pretty rough stuff down there.”

“Do it in a hurry, Trip,” his commanding officer said, watching the doctor scurry off to gather medical supplies from Sickbay. “You've got until Phlox gets back.” Then he turned to his first officer. “Let's get to the Bridge. I want to check out the latest readings from the scanners. I _don’t_ want to fly down there and find out the hard way that something’s changed.”

“Indeed.” T'Pol nodded. “It should only take a few moments.”

With the departure of the captain and T'Pol, only Trip, Travis and Hoshi remained in the launch bay; Anna had gone off duty, Michael was fetching some equipment from Engineering for Trip, and Em had raced off to the Armory to get additional firepower, should they need it.

“Guess I’m the one gonna be mindin' the store.” The chief engineer gently worked a piece of machinery free of its housing and put it down on the deck plating.

“You could have my place.” Travis sat down wearily in the doorway of the shuttlepod. “I’ve seen as much of that place as I want to see in my lifetime.”

Hoshi had been staring off into space, but now she sat down next to him. “Did you actually see him? Was he okay?”

“No. Sorry, Hoshi.” He saw her flinch slightly, and realized that his laconic reply had been misinterpreted. “No, I just meant I didn’t see him. It was too dark, and he was too far away. I’m sure he’ll be okay. He’s a tough guy.”

Hoshi didn't respond other than to make a noise that might have passed for assent.

They lapsed into silence, alone with their respective thoughts, as they waited for the others to come back so that the rescue mission could begin.


	8. Chapter 8

The journey down was every bit as exciting as Travis had said it would be. Even Phlox’s dauntless grin was looking rather strained by the time the shuttlepod came to rest in front of the tunnel mouth.

The already low light levels beneath the cloud layers were diminishing as local evening set in. Towering above them, the volcano plume streamed up towards the vermilion clouds, its attendant lightning bolts flickering occasionally to bring a starker illumination to the scene. The glow from the perpetually active maw high above cast a rising orange hue.

T’Pol, seeing it for the first time, thought that it was like a scene from Dante’s _Inferno._ The classic work was a part of Earth’s literature that had been included in her studies, an illustration of both the breadth of human imagination and the depth of their superstition.

“It’s as safe as it gets around here,” said the captain, seeing the newcomers’ eyes turn apprehensively towards the heights. “You’ll notice earth tremors now and then, but mostly they’re pretty small…” A powerful quake rocked the shuttlepod. “...ish,” he finished with an uneasy smile.

T'Pol helped him to carry the inflatable boat inside. It was so tightly packed that it was hardly larger than the canister of compressed air that would inflate it, but it was heavy and had two carrying straps to make things easier. Phlox had his medical kit, and Hoshi had a Universal Translator, even though for some reason Captain Archer had expressed more faith in her ability with languages than the device's. Ensign Gomez had brought along high-powered scanners, explosives, and a phase rifle. The captain had lectured her on the way down about not projecting aggression, but T’Pol suspected that given the jut of her jaw right now, it had been wasted breath.

They were all wearing EV suits, though atmospheric readings indicated that for the moment, they didn’t need to keep their visors closed.

The flood had subsided still farther by the time they reached the partial blockage in the tunnel. The water had now retreated completely from the upper levels and was only ankle-deep beyond it, still sliding steadily downhill as the subterranean chamber emptied completely. The beams of their flashlights illuminated the size of the cavern. It was no wonder that such a large body of water had burst forth with such violence once the earthquake had ruptured the supporting wall.

“Still not as big as the one farther down.” Travis shook his head. “This whole area must have more holes in it than a Swiss cheese.”

This chamber, fortunately, did not appear to be inhabited. There was no sound except for the _plink_ of droplets of water falling from high above, and the beams played on nothing more sinister than glistening walls of water-smoothed stone.

“I suggest we proceed with all speed,” commented T'Pol drily as yet another tremor made the floor shiver. “Apart from the physical risk, we are compounding our offense by a second trespass on restricted Tellarite territory.”

“Be that as it may,” the captain said, “sometimes it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission. I think this definitely qualifies as one of those times.

“Travis, go back to the shuttlepod and wait for us. Have it ready for immediate takeoff, just in case we need to get out of here in a hurry. And get some rest if you can. That’s an order.” A hard glance reinforced the last part of the instructions, and the helmsman reluctantly turned and began trudging back towards the surface.

Following the directions Travis had given him during the flight down, Captain Archer briskly led the way down the rest of the tunnel until they reached the point where the cave was just around the bend up ahead.

“Time I took point.” Ensign Gomez set down the case of explosives and hoisted the rifle.

“Ensign. It will do our cause no favors if you precipitate a confrontation.” The Vulcan was consulting her scanner carefully, and did not look up. “Please exercise due caution.”

The Armory officer probably scowled at this sensible advice, but T'Pol caught her short, reluctant nod with her peripheral vision.

The captain shot a warning glance at the ensign, his stern visage undoubtedly reinforcing the message not to do anything rash. He looked at his science officer. “T'Pol, report?”

“The temperature has risen, Captain, further than would be expected in the circumstances. It may not only be water that has found a way to extend its range.” If it wouldn't have been inappropriate to grimace at the way the dense pockets among the strata of rock were bouncing back the scanner beams and giving anomalous readings, she would have been tempted to do so. “I suggest that if we find the cavern uninhabited, we test the water carefully before allowing it to come into skin contact.”

Every member of the team knew enough geology to understand what she meant. It would take very little time for water in contact with gases produced by magma to be transformed into boiling sulfuric acid. If that was happening, Lieutenant Reed’s survival had become far more unlikely. Any rescue attempt would also become incalculably more hazardous, if it was possible at all.

“Sir.” Hoshi held up a hand. “I can hear something.”

Every member of the landing party fell instantly silent.

The science officer couldn’t hear anything, but she knew that Ensign Sato had remarkable hearing. She watched her intently.

“I don’t think it’s voices, sir,” Hoshi said quietly. “I can’t make out any pattern in it. I think it’s just a kind of … sound effect.”

“We can make sound effects of our own,” commented Em grimly, switching off the safety catch on the phase rifle.

“No.” The captain pushed the raised muzzle of the rifle down. “That’s the last resort – not the first.”

Hoshi, her attention on the device in her hands, continued as if they hadn't spoken. “The UT can't make anything of it, either.”

The whispering grew louder. T'Pol’s acute hearing picked it up, and shortly thereafter, it was obviously audible even to the humans.

Captain Archer turned to address the others. “Stand well back behind T'Pol and me 'til I give you the word. If there’s trouble, Em, you’re in charge. Get Hoshi and Phlox back to the shuttlepod and take off. Don’t come back under any circumstances. Understood?”

“ _Sí_ , _Capitán,_ ” Gomez said reluctantly. She shepherded the doctor and her fellow ensign back up the tunnel a short way, and stopped. She took up position in front of them and the phase rifle remained switched on and ready for action if needed.

T'Pol turned back towards the lower end of the tunnel, pleased that the captain had acted sensibly; risking so many lives for one was illogical. However, she couldn’t deny stirrings of apprehension. Ensign Mayweather’s account had been difficult to believe, but she respected his powers of observation.

“Guess we’d better go introduce ourselves.” Setting his jaw, the captain moved down towards the bend. “With any luck, at least we’ll find out if Malcolm’s still alive.”

The creatures were waiting for them in the mouth of the cave. They were difficult to see, except as shadowy movements. It was impossible to assign either depth or individuality to them; they were simply present. Almost immediately T'Pol received the same impression that Travis had reported. The sense of hostility was almost overwhelming.

But she also perceived something that Travis had not.

It was nothing to do with the whispering. That went on in her ears, dry and ominous as the rustle of a scaled body across the grains of sand in a desert, but inside her head, she could hear _voices_. Thin, attenuated, almost on the very edge of hearing, all but void of expression, and utterly indistinguishable one from the other, but voices all the same

_< <They have come wantfinding the dreamer.>>_

_< <We knew they would come.>>_

_< <They did not protect him.>>_

_< <We will protect him.>>_

_< <We will awaydrive them.>>_

“Captain,” she said quietly. “I can hear them speaking. Whatever they are, they are sentient.”

He turned towards her, startled. Evidently he could sense nothing.

She was surprised herself by the development; Vulcans, at least those who would admit to the ability of communicating mentally without spoken speech, were touch-telepaths, and she was not aware that there was any physical contact with these aliens. What her eyes were showing her suggested that the nearest one was a little over three meters away. Holding up a hand, she tried to project her thoughts, concentrating hard on the voices. _‘We mean no harm. We wish only to rescue our colleague.’_

The whispering stopped immediately. There was a wary pause.

_< <They have come for the dreamer.>>_

_< <They did not protect him.>>_

_< <He would have unselfed if we had not found him.>>_

_‘He is alive?’_ she projected urgently.

_< <He is selfed.>>_

_< <They did not protect him.>>_

_< <They did not value him.>>_

_< <He is ours now.>>_

“I believe the lieutenant is alive, if I understand them properly, sir,” T'Pol told the captain. “They appear to believe we were negligent in our care of him. He was badly hurt, and they now regard him as their property.”

“‘Finders keepers’,” he murmured. “Will they let us see him?”

She returned her gaze to the shadow-people. _‘We value the dreamer,’_ she told them. _‘We could not find him.’_

_< <The dreamer is with us.>>_

_< <We will protect him.>>_

_‘Nevertheless, we wish to see him for ourselves.’_

_< <The other dreamers do not believe us.>>_

_< <We do not trust them.>>_

_< <Dreamers untruthtell when they are undreaming.>>_

_< <They must not harm the dreamer.>>_

_< <We will not permit it.>>_

_‘We would not lie to you. That is not our custom. Whatever individuals deceived you in the past, you must believe us: We have no hostile intentions towards you or towards the dreamer you are protecting.’_

She had spoken the words aloud this time so that the captain would know what she was saying. Indeed, it seemed to encourage him to try to communicate with the nebulous beings himself.

“We’re explorers. My name is Captain Jonathan Archer of the starship _Enterprise._ ” He took a step closer. “We came here on a rescue mission, and my officer was lost in an accident. If you found him and cared for him, we’re extremely grateful.”

“I recommend proceeding with extreme caution, Captain,” said T’Pol softly, after repeating his words in her mind. “They are becoming agitated.”

She hardly needed to tell him that. Even in the dim light, he could certainly see for himself how the movement of the shadowy forms was becoming rapid, disturbed, like candle flames in a draught. The sense of threat stirred again, extended towards them like a shield full of spikes.

She tried to calm the aliens. _‘If you would trust us, you would see we are telling the truth. This man is a friend to the dreamer. He would not harm him.’_

“I’m not here to hurt anyone,” the captain said soothingly, spreading his hands to show that they were empty. “I just want to see for myself that my officer’s all right.”

The bodiless voices whispered in T'Pol's mind.

_< <We will permit this?>>_

_< <He wishes to harm the dreamer.>>_

_< <He must not harm the dreamer.>>_

_< <No. We will not permit him to harm the dreamer.>>_

_< <He thinks of the dreamer as a friend.>>_

_< <Then we will permit him to see the dreamer.>>_

_< <But we will not permit harm.>>_

_< <No.>>_

The movement gentled and stilled, so that the beings became harder to see.

<< _We will take them to the dreamer. But there will not be harm. >>_

In a low voice, she conveyed this to the captain. “They appear to feel strongly protective of Mister Reed for some reason,” she said. “They will allow us to see him, but still suspect our intentions may be hostile.”

“Thank you,” he addressed the aliens. “I promise you, I have no hostile intentions, to you or anyone else.”

_< <He will follow us. But if he attempts to harm the dreamer, we will unself him.>>_

When Captain Archer moved to approach the beings, T'Pol quickly stepped in front of him. “Sir. If I understand them correctly, they are threatening to kill you if you try to harm the lieutenant.”

“As I have no intention of trying to harm him, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

“That depends on what they may perceive as ‘attempting to harm’. They may not understand a medical scanner. It may be wise to demonstrate its use before you proceed.”

“Good point.” The captain nodded, and held up the scanner. “I have a device that we use for examining people who are hurt. I’d like your permission to use it on my officer. “You see?” He activated the scanner as Phlox had shown him during the flight down, and ran it over T'Pol. “It doesn’t hurt anyone.”

<< _He may harm the dreamer. We should not permit this. >>_

_< <She says he is a friend to the dreamer. Perhaps we should trust him.>>_

<< _We will watch carefully. If they harmthreaten the dreamer we will unmake the device at once. >>_

T'Pol relayed this information. “They have accepted your explanation within limits, Captain. But they will be keeping you under close surveillance.”

“I hope I get it right,” he muttered, studying the scanner. It was a medical type, and thus not one he was really familiar with.

“All that matters for now is that you obtain the relevant readings. The doctor will be able to interpret them fully.”

“I have every confidence in you, Captain,” Doctor Phlox called cheerfully. He and the other two crew-members had been following developments closely.

“Will they let you come with me?” the captain asked her.

They hadn’t actually said he should go alone, she realized, but she had to be present to facilitate communication between him and the aliens. If not, he would have no warning if anything he did was perceived to constitute a threat to his missing officer. She posed the question of her own passage to the alien life-forms.

<< _The other may pass. >>_

<< _She must not harm the dreamer. >>_

_< <We will not permit harm.>>_

<< _But two only. >>_

“They will permit it, sir.”

The beings began to move, drifting through the mouth of the cave. It was very difficult to make out how many there actually were, because they were so insubstantial. If any one of them stilled, it immediately became completely invisible. There must have been at least twenty, she thought, but there could easily have been double that number. The scanner certainly did not detect them as individuals, but as a nebulous cloud of energy.

Once in the cave proper, the shadows drifted to the right. There was a narrow raised area along the wall where stalactites and stalagmites clustered thickly. It overlooked the rest of the cave, which was flooded, as Travis had said. About half way along was a section that was higher than the rest.  Floodwater had obviously rushed close to it – pools lay on the stone floor of the lower level – but had drained off, and it was possible to carefully pick a way on foot. The light gleamed on the walls, rippled with flowstone.

_< <The dreamer is here.>>_

<< _They will not harm the dreamer or they will be unselfed. >>_

_< <We will not permit it.>>_

She heard the captain’s soft intake of breath before she saw what he was looking at.


	9. Chapter 9

Directly beside a narrow ledge that overhung the flooded cave, there was a natural hollow among the stalactites, roughly oval, and perhaps two meters long by one wide. It was full of water, and Lieutenant Reed was lying motionless in it, completely submerged, curled up on his right side. He was still in uniform, and his eyes were closed. The surface of his left thigh, which was uppermost, showed torn fabric over what looked like a number of shallow wounds.

“ _Drowned_ …” T'Pol heard, but didn’t understand, the note of horror in the grief and shock in the captain's voice.

It was all too clear what had happened. The tactical officer had been carried away by the flash flood; any number of things could have damaged his leg before he died. Maybe the strange beings had found him in the water, and brought him here to a place of quiet, thinking that if he was left undisturbed he might recover. They might well not have understood that he needed to breathe air. He might even have been alive when they found him, which would have led them to believe he was aquatic. If so, their kindness in trying to rescue him had been wasted. Tragically, if that was the case, they had not saved but killed him.

At least it obviated the necessity for trying to persuade them to release him. His body, after all, was of comparatively little importance. It was unlikely that the captain would feel it logical to demand it, given the way that the creatures had become so possessive of it; it would achieve nothing, and quite probably expose both of them to the sort of needless risk that Lieutenant Reed, when he was alive, would have excoriated.

_< <They will use the device and leave.>>_

_< <They will not harm the dreamer.>>_

“I am sorry, Captain.” She spoke gently. “They wish us to use the scanner and go.”

“No point,” muttered her commanding officer.

The Vulcan glanced aside at the captain. He was upset, seemingly close to tears, which she could understand as he was human and subject to his emotions. It would have been a severe blow to have expected to find his tactical officer safe and well, only to be presented with a corpse. It was a disappointment to her too. Naturally, she regretted the lieutenant’s death, but she was also surprised by the fact that the inhabitants of the cave did not seem to understand it. Although their ability to communicate was limited, she would have thought them far more intelligent than this suggested.

“Possibly not,” she agreed, “but since they have allowed us to come so far, it would be only courteous to do what we have been brought here to do. Even if it is only a token gesture.”

He shrugged and brought out the medical scanner. His thumb flicked the switch. It would take only a moment to run it across the body, and then they could leave, taking the terrible news back to the ship.

The next moment he all but dropped the device. “He's alive!”

She took a step forwards, astonished and intrigued. It was not possible. The lieutenant was absolutely still. Not so much as a quiver of a heartbeat disturbed the glassy surface of the water.

_< <The dreamer is selfed.>>_

_< <We are protecting the dreamer.>>_

_< <We will not allow anything to harm him.>>_

“But – but how?” The captain was stuttering with the shock, staring from the scanner to the supposed dead man. “He can’t breathe under water!” With hands that were now visibly unsteady, he again ran the machine over the motionless officer, coming as close to the liquid covering Malcolm as he dared.

_< <He will not touch the dreamer.>>_

T'Pol murmured the warning.

Jon was too busy looking at the readings to pay much heed to her. “It’s not water. I don’t know what it is. The readings aren’t making sense to me. Damn it! Phlox should be doing this!”

“Sir, as long as we obtain the information, I’m certain the doctor will be able to determine what’s happening.”

“I’m picking up everything I can.”

The aliens were very close, obviously deeply suspicious of what was going on.

_‘Why are you caring for Lieutenant Reed?_ ’ she asked them quietly. _‘He is not one of you.’_

_< <The dreamer was almost unselfed.>>_

_< <The other dreamers did not protect him.>>_

_< <The other dreamers did not want him.>>_

_< <Therefore he is with us.>>_

_< <They will leave now.>>_

She tried to reason with them. _‘You are under a misapprehension. The lieutenant was attempting a rescue when a flood occurred. He was swept away, and we have been searching for him ever since.’_

_< <He would have unselfed if we had not found him.>>_

_< <He is ours now.>>_

_< <They will leave.>>_

It was hard to claim that the voices became angry or threatening. There was hardly enough to them for that. But the movements of the shadowy shapes became slightly jerky. One or two moved from one place to another with astonishing speed, darting like agitated fish.

Keeping them under observation, she said, “Captain, if you have finished, we should leave. We can do nothing here at the moment, and Mister Reed is in no apparent danger for the present.”

This suggestion, however logical, was not well received. Captain Archer cast a worried scowl at the cave-dwellers.

“What do you want with my officer?” he demanded.

To T'Pol's surprise, she heard them reply to the question. They apparently could process auditory communication.

_< <The dreamer is ours.>>_

_< <They will leave or there will be harm.>>_

“Sir.  I believe that if we are to stand any chance of rescuing the lieutenant, we should comply with their request to leave. We may be able to establish some kind of a dialogue if we co-operate. To insist on remaining here will achieve nothing except arouse their suspicions of our intentions.”

The captain's scowl intensified, but he couldn't dispute her logic. His gaze swept over the ephemeral beings. “I'd like to continue this discussion elsewhere.” He glanced expectantly at T'Pol, awaiting her response from them.

_< <We will talk with the dreamers.>>_

_< <They will leave now.>>_

_< <Then we will talk.>>_

“They are willing,” she told him.


	10. Chapter 10

The three crewmembers whom the captain and T'Pol had left in the tunnel were greatly relieved by their reappearance.

Ensign Gomez, it was clear, was expecting them to come back with her superior officer in tow. Her face creased in a scowl when she saw this was not the case. “Sir. Is the lieutenant okay?” she asked.

 “I’m not sure, Ensign.” The captain walked rapidly up the tunnel towards them, and handed the medical scanner to Phlox. “See what you can make of this, doc. I’m damned if I know what those readings mean.”

While the others bent over the scanner, T'Pol remained near the cave mouth. The shadow-aliens hovered around her. They seemed reassured by the visitors’ obedience, but still anxious for them to depart.

_< <The dreamer is safe. We will protect him.>>_

_< <The other dreamers need not fear for him.>>_

_< <Why do they want to uswith talk?>>_

_‘We are explorers,'_ T'Pol told them. _'We travel through the galaxy to discover other life forms. Our intentions are peaceful.’_

_< <The dreamers who usbrought here claimed they were protectors. They said they would return.>>_

_< <It was long ago.>>_

_< <They untruthtold.>>_

_< <We sought only dreamsharing.>>_

_< <The dreamers promised us.  In return for healing, there would be dreamsharing.>>_

_… dreamsharing … dreamsharing …_ the shadows quivered like harp strings.

<< _They left us here.  Now we have a dreamer of our own. >>_

_< <We are dreaming with him. We are completed.  We are dreamsharing.>>_

As T'Pol considered the revelation that the beings were not indigenous to the planet, an earth tremor rattled through the tunnel. The landing party froze until it rumbled away into nothing, though small aftershocks quivered through the floor.

_‘You are not safe here,’_ she told the aliens. _‘The planet is unstable, and its star is dangerous. You should not remain here. There is every possibility you will die.’_

_< <We cannot leave.>>_

_< <We know we will die.>>_

T'Pol seized upon the waste of unnecessary death to persuade the creatures. _‘The dreamer will also die if he does not come with us.’_

<< _We are sorry. >>_

_< <We will protect as long as we can.>>_

Their logic was flawed, but then she did not understand yet what they wanted from Lieutenant Reed.

“Sub-commander.” The soft voice broke her concentration. She looked up.

Ensign Sato had come down the tunnel, with Ensign Gomez at her side.

The shadows wavered, and whispers went rustling among the echoes.

_< <There will be harm.>>_

“Ensigns, you are in danger,” T'Pol said levelly. “Please rejoin the captain and Doctor Phlox.”

“I can't,” said the comm officer. “Phlox doesn’t understand what these beings are doing. I have to see the lieutenant. Please.”

The Vulcan frowned. This was not the time for an emotional response. “I am endeavoring to discover what they are ‘doing’ to the lieutenant. Your proximity is not helpful.”

“I came down here to help,” answered Sato passionately. “Let me talk to them.”

“Ensign, this is not ‘language’ in the conventional sense.”

“Please, Sub-commander. At least let her try.” The Armory officer was looking around at the shadows, but her rifle was still pointing towards the floor and her finger was conspicuously off the trigger.

T'Pol repressed a sigh. She strongly suspected that both women were acting so illogically because they had developed emotional connections to the lieutenant. Among Humans, this might be considered acceptable, even laudable, but a Vulcan could perceive exactly what a disadvantage emotional ties were in a situation like this. She could understand the Armory ensign's loyalty to her immediate superior, a commendable trait when not complicated by excessive emotion. The less rational emotional connection between Ensign Sato and the tactical officer was something she had recently begun to suspect, but had refrained from reporting to the captain as it had appeared to have had no effect on the performance of their duties. She had not, however, realized they had achieved such a deep attachment.

“There is no possibility of your talking to them if you do not speak their language, Ensign,” she said, making the effort to speak quietly and patiently.

_< <The dreamer hears her.>>_

_< <We hear her with him.>>_

The Vulcan was so surprised by this development that she raised both eyebrows. _‘If you can communicate with the dreamer, he will tell you about us. He will tell you to trust us.’_

_< <He hears her.>>_

_< <He wishes her to talkwith.>>_

“Sub-commander?” Sato asked, having seen that T'Pol's attention was no longer on her. “Are they communicating with you again?”

T'Pol ignored the question to call softly to her commanding officer, who was still frowning over the medical scanner with Phlox. “Captain! I believe that Lieutenant Reed is conscious. He can hear Ensign Sato. The aliens say he wishes to talk to her.”

“It’s possible he could hear her,” said the doctor. “The scans show a considerable amount of brain activity, although how he could speak under water is beyond me.”

“Have you established his condition, Doctor?” T'Pol asked.

“I’m afraid it’s not something I’ve ever encountered before. As far as I can gather from the data the captain gathered, Mister Reed is inside some kind of … liquid energy, is the best I can describe it.”

Scientifically speaking, the description was nonsense, but then the doctor would know that, T'Pol realized. And yet whatever it was, it wasn’t water, since the lieutenant was still alive.

Captain Archer gestured to Ensign Sato. “Say something to Malcolm. Get him to answer you.”

The comm officer hesitated for a moment. Even in the blue helmet lights, a slight blush to her cheeks could be seen. “Uh… Lieutenant … Malcolm, are you there?”

<< _Hoshi. >>_

The reply received by T'Pol was almost indistinguishable from the other voices, accentless and faint. Since Sato could not hear the response, T'Pol said, “He hears you, Ensign. Please continue talking. I will relay the lieutenant's words.”

The other woman took a deep breath. “Malcolm, are you okay?”

_< <Fine.>>_

When T'Pol repeated that one-word response aloud, the captain snorted, and Ensign Gomez rolled her eyes. Even Ensign Sato smiled tremulously at a response so typical of the stoic tactical officer.

_‘Lieutenant, you are in grave danger,’_ T'Pol advised him _. ‘You must persuade them to allow you to leave.’_

_< <The dreamer must not leave.>>_

_< <We will not permit it!>>_

The comm officer went on, unaware that the beings were now taking part in the conversation. “Malcolm, listen to me,” she pleaded. “They've made a mistake!”

_< <I know.>>_

T'Pol's repetition of the lieutenant's comment had barely left her mouth when the captain spoke up.

“Malcolm,” he said. “This planet is unstable. You know how dangerous it is. Can we help these people somehow?”

T'Pol did not know whether Ensign Sato was able to communicate with Lieutenant Reed because of latent telepathic ability or as a result of their strong emotional bond; the captain, she was certain, had neither such connection to his tactical officer. She relayed the captain's message to the lieutenant.

_< <I’m not sure.>>  _A pause. His tone sounded different from his usual crisp manner of speaking: drowsy, almost slurred.   _< <Where am I?>>_

The aliens hastened to reassure him.

_< <You are with us.>>_

_< <We will protect you.>>_

Another tremor passed through the cave. Small pieces of rock broke off from the ceiling and walls, bouncing and skittering across the floor and plopping into the surface of the lake that occupied the rest of the cavern.

_‘Lieutenant, these people cannot protect you indefinitely. Please examine your situation. Assess the possibilities of a rescue. And please hurry.’_ T'Pol paused, considering how she might motivate him. _‘Hoshi is in grave danger.’_

_< <Get her out of here.>>_

That response was more focused and forceful than his earlier replies; her tactic had worked.

_‘We wish to take you and those protecting you with us to safety. Lieutenant!'_ She mentally shouted his rank to keep his attention. _‘That’s an order!’_

<<Trying…>>

The shadow-beings had been almost motionless, listening intently to the exchange. Now they began to chaotically flit to and fro, even more agitated than they had been previously.

_< <Dreamers untruthtell!>>_

_< <The others lied… lied to us…>>_

_< <There will be harm.>>_

_< <They want to unself us.>>_

_< <We will not permit harm!>>_

_< <No. Listen to them.>> _ The voice that T'Pol had identified as Lieutenant Reed’s had regained something of its authority, though there was a distraught note as if it belonged to a man talking in the depths of a fever. _< <Trust them.>>_

_< <There is a way.>>_

<< _The dreamer trusts them. >>_

_< <We will trust the dreamer.>>_

_< <We will go with him. They must carry us.>>_

T'Pol conveyed this quickly to the captain.

“Can they let Malcolm wake up?” he asked.

“Malcolm, can you come out to us?” the comm officer asked in the same instant.

<< _No! >>_

_< <We will not let you take the dreamer!>>_

_< <I can’t, love. They need to be with someone if… they’re going to move. They’re afraid. I have to do this.>>_

T'Pol blinked as she repeated all this, quite sure that the lieutenant hadn’t meant to employ that particular endearment in her presence.

Sato bit her lip. “What do you want us to do, Malcolm?”

_< <I might need some help. You’ll have to come to wherever I am.>>_

_< <We will permit it.>>_

_< <We will trust the dreamers.>>_

_< <Wait. You’ll need something … some kind of … something to carry us in.>>_

“Something to carry us in,” repeated T'Pol, her eyes meeting the captain’s.

“The boat!” said Ensign Gomez. “The air bottle has a control valve. We can put just a little into the boat, so there is just enough to give it some structure. That will be easier to deal with than just the fabric.”

“We’d never get it through the blockage,” Captain Archer pointed out.

Gomez could hardly restrain her enthusiasm. “We can let the rest of the air out at the blockage. Once we get it through, we can manage the rest of the way somehow.”

_< <We do not understand.>>_

<< _We will trust them. >>_

_< <We will permit them to touch the dreamer.>>_

_< <They won’t hurt me.>>_


	11. Chapter 11

Lieutenant Reed was still motionless in the pool, curled on his side, his eyes closed. His face, however, was no longer tranquilly composed. There was a faint frown line between his brows, and his eyes moved beneath the lids as though he was deep in REM sleep.

_< <You'll need to break me out. Try … try not to spill any.>>_

_< <The dreamers will not harm.>>_

_< <We will trust the dreamers.>>_

The shadows melted fluidly into the liquid. There was no motion to indicate any physical effect, but the voices fell silent.

T'Pol pointed out Reed's leg to the captain. Under the ribbons of torn cloth, the flesh of his thigh was now almost unmarked. She refrained from asking the aliens if they were responsible for healing the wounds; it was not worth angering them merely to satisfy her curiosity.

She refocused her attention to the task at hand. "My understanding is that we will need to keep the lieutenant in the liquid while he is being moved," she said.

Ensign Gomez stepped forward, nodding her agreement. "I've got this," she said, taking charge of inflating the boat. She attached the nozzle of the compressed air cylinder to an intake valve on the craft, but allowed only a part of the contents to be released before she snapped off the valve. With a  _whoof,_ the plastic structure expanded to something like a fifth of its full size.

She tugged the craft into position in front of the pool, and directed Sato and Phlox to hold either end of it in place. She unslung the phase rifle and, when they were in position, she aimed it at the pool's rock wall.

"Ensign?" the captain asked in alarm.

The Spaniard looked wryly at him. "No,  _Capitán._ I shall not shoot him by accident."

She pulled the trigger. Red light lanced through the dimness and bit into the stone, half a meter from where Phlox was stationed. Slowly it traveled along the wall towards Ensign Sato at the other end of the boat. There was no noticeable effect until she did something to the rifle's settings, aimed again, and fired at the center of the wall.

The stone collapsed. The contents of the pool spilled out in a smooth torrent more viscous than water. Lieutenant Reed was carried in it like the yolk in the white of an egg as it ran down into the boat. Everyone stared down at him. Golden glints of what looked like sunlight moved in the water-like substance surrounding him, too fast for the eye to follow.

"Well, I guess I've seen everything now," said the captain, employing one of what T'Pol considered the more absurd human expressions. "Malcolm doing a goldfish impersonation."

"Amazing!" Phlox had hardly stopped staring, fascinated by the sight.

"Is he all right?" Ensign Sato leaned close, plainly wanting to touch but not quite daring.

_< <Am I supposed to feel seasick?>>_

T'Pol didn't respond to the tactical officer's comment; a human might panic if told he was not breathing and was completely submerged in liquid, and panic would only serve to impede the rescue attempt.

Another rumble brought more rock crashing down.

" _¡Madre de dios!"_ Ensign Gomez said.  _"_ Let's get him back to  _Enterprise_ before this place collapses round our ears!"

And that, T'Pol thought with approval, was a most sensible idea.

* * *

The journey back to the surface was not something Jon would care to repeat.

For one thing, it was incredibly difficult to carry a partially inflated boat up a narrow, twisting tunnel, especially with a partially conscious human in it. The cumbersome EV suits made the task even more awkward.

Malcolm wasn't the biggest of the crew by any measure, thought the captain, changing his grip yet again on the cord around the rim of the boat, but what there was of him was solid. And the stuff he was floating in had to weigh at least as much as he did.

Jon also could have done without losing his balance every few steps. From the way tremors were vibrating through the floor, the volcano had apparently benefited from its little nap and was now getting back into the swing of things. The low rumbles were counterpointed by low rumbles in Spanish from Em. Hoshi probably understood most of the words, but nobody else did.

That was probably for the best, thought her commanding officer as he staggered along. As long as Em didn't let her griping interfere with getting back to the shuttlepod, he wouldn't order her to stop.

A short distance from the original blockage, the speaker in his EV suit helmet crackled to life. " _Ent–ise to C– Archer."_

"This is Archer. Go ahead."

_"Cap'n, –ve just gotten an –gent m–ge from Ast–etrics. –ms like that star out there's gettin' –al antsy."_

"Understood. Archer out." He cut the connection and cast a grim look around at the rest of the landing party. "Time to crank this up."

They discovered that it was possible to go just a little faster. They'd been trying to keep from jolting Malcolm too badly, but comfort now had to be sacrificed for speed. Better for him to be seasick than poached, Jon reasoned.

When they reached the blockage, Em opened the boat valves and let out most of the air. They dragged the almost deflated boat through the narrow gap, working to prevent any of the fluid from spilling out. There were moments when the man suspended in it emerged partially; the golden glints flickered across him, making him look like he'd been dipped in egg white and then sprinkled with gold dust, but he didn't react in any way. Jon had been hoping he'd show some signs of consciousness, maybe even try to gasp for breath now that oxygen was available to him again, but it didn't happen.

The rumbling around them was almost continuous. As they finished pulling the boat through the narrow opening, a sudden strong gust of hot air with the distinctive stink of sulfur came from behind, and had them all reaching hastily to close their visors.

The clean, oxygen-rich air from the tanks in their EV suits gave them a new burst of energy. They sometimes dragged and sometimes carried the boat and its passengers up the last stretch until they reached the mouth of the tunnel.

They emerged into a world that had passed into night, luridly illuminated by the light high above where the cone of the volcano was splintering and a dozen new lava flows were crawling down the barren slopes. Lumps of half-molten rock were being flung high into the air and falling down to earth – one had landed on the miners' abandoned ship, crushing it almost beyond recognition. The plume had thickened; lightning played about it almost continuously, blasting a flickering white glare across the roiling grey and orange cloud. Ash was falling all around in a warm, gentle, deadly snow.

The shuttlepod was barely meters away. Jon saw the side-door fly up; Travis had been watching for them.

They hauled their prize into the shuttlepod and slammed the door shut. The metal frame was shaking, and it wasn't from the engine starting up; Travis already had it running.

A roaring sound like an arriving express train made it impossible to hear, and a shockwave from the pyroclastic flow thundering down towards them bounced the little craft like a toy. Riding the wave, the shuttlepod took off as though it had been shot out of a torpedo tube.

The passengers weren't prepared for the violent takeoff. The boat surged aft, pushing Em and Hoshi backwards to slam into the rear of the shuttlepod. Jon, Phlox and T'Pol scrambled to grab onto the other side of the boat, while the glittering liquid and its hapless passenger sloshed about like a cocktail in a shaker. The captain remembered that among his other health issues, Malcolm was particularly prone to seasickness. It might not go down too well with the shadow-beings if their 'dreamer' threw up all over them.

They managed to keep the boat from spilling its contents all over the deck, even when the shuttlepod canted upwards, engine howling with the strain.

"Any chance you could keep it a little steadier, Travis?" gasped Jon, anticipating yet another wash of liquid he'd have to help keep contained.

"Not if you'd prefer her in one piece, Captain." The shuttlepod dived sideways, shuddering as something scraped along the outside of the hull as Travis tried to dodge the larger pieces of volcanic debris in the atmosphere.

"I'll leave that up to you." A glance through the forward viewscreen showed the captain that they were about to enter the cloud layer. It had been bad enough on the way down. Now it had an exploding volcano underneath it, and they hadn't time to fly clear; Trip wasn't the type to send warnings for nothing, and if that star up there was developing signs of serious indigestion, they wouldn't want to linger in the vicinity.

Leaving the others to take up the job with the boat, he lurched to an auxiliary station behind Travis, where he more fell into a seat than sat down, and used the comm panel to open a channel. "Archer to  _Enterprise!_ "

_"_ Ent–  _here, Cap'n_. _"_

"Trip. We're on our way back, but if you need to, get the ship out of here and leave us. That's an order. Understand?"

Just then the shuttlepod hit the turbulence layer. There was some kind of squawked reply through the comm, but nobody had time or attention to spare; they were all too busy – Travis was keeping the ship flying, and other than Jon, the rest of them were on their knees trying to keep Malcolm and his attendant aliens safe. What Malcolm would have come out with if he'd been conscious fairly boggled the imagination; as it was, the frown on T'Pol's normally serene countenance suggested that he was getting at least some idea of what was happening, and wasn't particularly happy about it.

"Scanners are down!" yelled Travis, after a series of impacts rattled the shuttlepod.

"Need any help?" Jon shouted back.

"Not unless you feel like taking a walk outside to repair the scanners, sir."

There was a desperate general laugh, and then there was nothing much to do except wait, trying to brace for the swerves and lurches.

Suddenly, the shuttlepod emerged into daylight.

_Daylight?_  Jon wondered, bemused for a second. It should be nighttime here in the planetary shadow–

It wasn't ordinary daylight, he realized in horrified dismay.  _Gallarax was going nova_.

It had swollen to ten times its original size already and was flooding space with its new, explosive radiance, shrinking the shadowed area of the planet with every second as it grew. Its surface was expanding exponentially, a vast pulsating globe of burning hydrogen that had already enveloped the debris of the first planet it had spawned and was reaching out to devour the second.

Travis threw up one arm to protect his eyes from the glare. Behind him, Jon did the same.

A vast shadow swooped between the shuttlepod and the sun. Metal clanged on the hull, and there was a jerk, swiftly followed by upward acceleration that pushed everyone towards the floor.

The acceleration stopped as soon as the launch bay doors closed behind the shuttlepod. Everyone in the back scrambled frantically to cope with the wildly splashing liquid, trying to keep it contained in the boat with Malcolm.

The comm link at the auxiliary station where Jon sat was still open. Over it, they could hear Trip yelling at whoever had flown  _Enterprise_  in that crazy maneuver, " _Get us out of here!_   _NOW!"_

The ship shook around them for a second, and then the familiar sensation through the deck plating signaled the leap to warp. It had been just as well that Trip had made absolutely sure the engines were at maximum readiness; this was the closest brush with annihilation Jon ever wanted to have.

Travis shut off the last few switches with trembling hands and turned to look aft. "Are you okay, Captain?"

"I'll be fine. Just remind me to keelhaul Trip for endangering my ship."

"You might want to give him some slack about that for saving all our lives, sir," said Hoshi with a shaky laugh.

"I'll bear it in mind." He looked down into the well of the deflated boat where his chief armory officer was drifting in the sparkling water. It was almost impossible to believe he was alive. The image was that of a dead body: loose limbs, no vestige of expression, and dark hair swaying like seaweed in the backwash.

Phlox had evidently been thinking along the same lines; as soon as it was safe to do so, he'd dug out his medical scanner. Looking at the readings, he said, "He's still with us, Captain."

"Indeed," concurred T'Pol, her voice so dry that it was obvious she was in receipt of some pungent observations from said officer on the events of the last few minutes.

"Captain," Travis said, reclaiming Jon's attention, "you might want to look at this. Pictures from our aft camera."

He pushed a button to feed exterior visuals to the monitor on the rear wall.

The death of a star was emblazoned on space, darkening everything by comparison. Gallarax was still expanding, hurling out its material, expending all the nuclear fuel that could have kept it burning for millions of years in one stupendous event. As the stellar material expanded, so it thinned, until within moments the star was a vast glowing sphere with a tiny seed of darkness at its heart: a seed that itself began to grow and expand, racing outwards in pursuit of the burning globe of debris. The four remaining planets had disappeared, pulverized into no more than memories.

It was both horrible and beautiful. They watched in silence.  _Enterprise,_ having achieved a safe distance, appeared to have stopped. Jon knew the astrometrics staff would be recording the event for further study.

_"Cap'n?"_  There was an apprehensive note in Trip's voice over the comm.  _"You okay in there?"_

"We're still in one piece, Commander." Jon drew a deep breath. "I want you to alert the science and engineering teams. We have a situation here that's going to take some careful handling." He glanced at Em, the phase rifle still slung across her shoulders. "I think we have the security aspect covered."

_"All right, Cap'n. As soon as I've got the repair team organized, I'll be down there."_

"Repair team?" the captain asked. "Don't tell me you scraped the paintwork  _again."_

There was an embarrassed silence for several seconds before Trip spoke. "Well, you must have noticed we were a mite lower than usual when we picked you up. The platin' was never designed for atmospheric entry and we couldn't polarize it and bring the shuttlepod in. Just a few little scorch marks on the deflector…"

Jon sighed in good-natured resignation. Trip was right, of course. The engineer couldn't help it that every time he was left in charge,  _Enterprise_  seemed to garner a little cosmetic damage. And really, under the circumstances, a few new dings on the hull were a small price to pay for saving the entire rescue party and Malcolm, and a horde of alien shadows.


	12. Chapter 12

The task of building a suitable container in the cargo bay and transferring Malcolm and the aliens carefully into it was accomplished with the care and dispatch that Jon had come to expect of his crew.

As soon as everything was quiet, the shadow-like beings had drifted up out of the water and had begun exploring the cargo bay. Their presence was disconcerting, but they were completely silent and projected nothing more than shy curiosity; Malcolm had conveyed his lack of concern in their presence as a security issue, so Em had accepted it, though she was wary enough to remain in the large compartment, watching what went on. Considering that Malcolm's second in command was just as suspicious as the tactical officer was himself in regard to previously unknown aliens, Jon wasn't surprised she stayed.

Hoshi, in the meantime, had stayed seated beside the shallow transparent aluminum tank, talking to the officer floating in it. She didn’t get any answers, because she couldn't pick up his thoughts as T'Pol could in this state, but she showed remarkable aplomb in carrying on a one-sided conversation, keeping their strange guests informed through Malcolm of what was going on. Seeing her resolute devotion to Malcolm and hearing the barely veiled anxiety in her voice as she talked to him, Jon now understood her pallor. She had to have some kind of relationship closer than a working one with his tactical officer. He made a mental note to ask his first officer if she had known about this, and if so, why she hadn't mentioned it to him.

After a brief meeting to consider their options, Jon, T'Pol, and Trip had returned to the cargo bay. Phlox had also been asked to be in attendance, just in case his services were required. He’d worked with the science team which was unobtrusively studying the situation, but professed himself unable to determine how Malcolm was being kept not merely alive but also awake to some degree. As far as could be detected, none of the lieutenant’s organs were functioning; his heart was not beating, his blood was not circulating, and his lungs were not obtaining oxygen. Nevertheless, as the doctor had told the captain, there was no sign of deterioration in any of the officer’s organs. His brain was functioning, although the pattern of its activity was unusual: it was consistent with that of someone who was sleepwalking.

The few shadows which had been drifting to and fro, examining their new environment and watching the people who entered it, returned to the tank. The liquid shimmered as they re-entered it.

As T'Pol adopted a meditation posture, the better to concentrate on communicating with the aliens, Jon put a reassuring hand on Trip’s shoulder. The chief engineer had been too busy, first with getting the tank set up and then with the meeting, to really take in the details of Malcolm’s plight, and his concern for the tactical officer was easily seen on his face.

“I can’t believe he’s okay like that, Cap’n,” Trip said in a low voice. “Are you sure we can get him out of this?”

“You know we'll do everything possible,” Jon replied grimly. “Right now, we don’t know nearly enough about what’s going on. I’m hoping we can get some answers that can give us an idea of what to do.”

T'Pol sat up straight and lifted a hand, the prearranged signal that she had re-established contact with the aliens. She would act only as the intermediary between the captain and the visitors, repeating verbatim the words of each party, and not attempting any dialogue with them on her own behalf. She would keep her gaze fixed on the tank, which would help free her from distractions. If she believed it urgent to intervene, she would look up and catch Jon’s gaze.

_“We are grateful to the dreamers,”_ she said in a monotone. _“The dreamer has ustold that they have saved us.”_

“We’re glad we had the opportunity,” Jon said carefully. “And now that we’ve got time to talk, I’d like to introduce ourselves properly.”

_“The dreamer has told us. The dreamers are Human. The intermediary is Vulcan. And the dreamers have a Healer, a Denobulan. We are the Aith.”_

“Right.” Jon ploughed on, trying to ignore the awkwardness engendered by how the conversation was made possible. “I believe you said you were ‘brought’ to Gallarax II some time ago, by someone else.”

_“Planetary … debris. Was Gallarax Prime. …Lonely.”_

When T'Pol pointed to Hoshi on the last word, indicating it was Malcolm who had spoken, Jon couldn't help but think how much this looked like a séance.

_“The Human dreamers risked being unselfed. The dreamer explained to us … We do not understand the words ‘bloody idiots’.”_

Some of the tension was broken when Trip had to choke back a laugh at the epithet. The captain blinked, and had to control a smile himself. Evidently Malcolm hadn’t been completely subsumed into the consciousness of these beings.

“It’s just an expression that particular dreamer uses sometimes,” Jon said diplomatically. “It means he doesn’t agree with what we’re doing.”

_“Now the dreamer has said ‘bloody hell’. He is agitated.”_

“I’d bet on that one,” murmured Trip.

“Tell the dreamer not to worry,” said the captain. “All I want to do is understand who you are, find out how you came to be where we found you, and why you need to have a dreamer with you.”

In the meeting, T'Pol had told him that there were a number of voices. Now, slight sideways movements of her hand as she spoke indicated changes in speaker. _“The other dreamers usfound.” “One of them fell and was bonebroken in helpslift. We found him indreaming.” “Our own dreamers were unselfed long ago in skyburning. It had been so long. We wished to heal. We wished to dream.” “We told that dreamer how much we wished to dream.”_ It was clear that the aliens were now eager to communicate; the voices followed swiftly one after another.

“Please,” Jon interrupted as gently as he could. “I don’t exactly understand what you call ‘dreaming’.”

There was a slight pause, longer than it had taken for T'Pol to pass on earlier replies. _“To be what is not. To wherego we are not. We know only what is. We do not dream.”_

“Imagination,” breathed Phlox in amazement. “They have no _imagination.”_

“Let me get this straight.” Jon stared at his linked hands for a moment. “You have this power of … healing, and you offered to exchange it for … dreaming.”

_“We cannot speak to an undreaming mind.” “The dreamer is with us but he is also dreaming.” “He would have unselfed. He had been inteethed. We healed him.”_

“The uniform on Mister Reed’s leg is badly torn, Captain.” Phlox leaned forward and pointed. “It would appear consistent with a bite injury, but his leg is unmarked. This would support their story.” The doctor's blue eyes were sparkling with interest. “It would also tie in with his brain patterns matching those of a sleepwalker, if he is dreaming in the sense of our usage of the word. I would suggest that for him, the experience may well be analogous with talking in his sleep.”

_“The other dreamers untruthtold to us,”_ T'Pol resumed. _“They promised to bring dreamers to us for healing. They usleft in the dark place.”_

Jon had known all along that they were in a difficult diplomatic position; the Aith had been found on a restricted planet in Tellarite space. Granted, _Enterprise_ 's presence there had been to rescue Tellarite miners, and Jon hardly thought even the argumentative Tellarites could blame him for hanging around long enough after that to rescue his own officer. Surely they couldn't reasonably expect him to abandon the Aith to die?

The pivotal question was _why_ the planet had been declared off-limits in the first place. Had someone in the Tellarite government known about the Aith? Had they been intended to be kept a secret, their healing powers exploited for profit at some future date?

Jon could feel his temper flare at the notion that someone had treated these people extremely badly. From a personal point of view, the very last thing he wanted to do was to perpetuate that treatment. On the other hand, however, he was a starship captain and a representative of Starfleet. Getting involved and going with his gut feelings on the matter could have serious diplomatic ramifications.

It didn’t help that the Aith appeared to have limited powers of communication. If he was to make a stand on their behalf, he’d need all the evidence he could get.

But first he wanted his Armory officer back. Malcolm was helping to communicate with the Aith, but his continued sleep-state was worrisome. From the Aith's earlier reactions, however, he was certain it would be the wrong move to bring up that issue until he found out exactly what the aliens wanted.

“Thank you for talking to us,” he said at last. “But what I need to know is what you want to do, where you want to go. I’d like to help you, but I can’t until I know what you want.”

The reply was prompt, predictable, and completely unhelpful. _“We want to dream.”_

T'Pol pointed to Hoshi again. _“Go to sleep.”_

Jon frowned, not understanding, but Phlox caught on immediately.

“Of course!” the Denobulan cried excitedly. “They can only communicate with people who are asleep!”

“T'Pol’s not asleep,” Trip pointed out.

“No,” Phlox conceded readily, “but during her meditative state her brain-patterns are distinctly different from those of normal consciousness. There are parallels between meditation and sleep that may be enough to allow the Aith to bridge the gap with her. However, as a linguist, Hoshi might be able to learn their language. It would allow for far better communication.”

“I don’t mind being sedated, if that's what is necessary,” said Hoshi. She pinkened, but ploughed on. “It could work. T'Pol could use me as a sort of … receiver. I stay connected to us, and Malcolm’s connected to them.”

 “Do they think it might work?” the captain asked T'Pol, still in her meditative trance in front of the tank.

_“We will make the attempt.”_ The Vulcan withdrew her gaze from the tank, blinked, and looked at him. “I would have to meld with Ensign Sato.”

Jon had an inkling of the effort it took for T'Pol to offer to do that. She’d been in a meld before but there had been complications. He didn't know if she was over the trauma from Tolaris's assault on her psyche. He'd never asked; if she had wanted to tell him, she would have. There were other issues, too, including her Vulcan conditioning that the practice was some kind of a perversion.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked her. “I won't order you.”

A tightness around her eyes betrayed her reluctance even as she said, “I can see no other way to return Lieutenant Reed to his proper state or assist these aliens.”

That pretty well mirrored his own opinion.

Waiting wasn’t going to make the situation any clearer. “So how do we go about this?” he asked his officers.

_“She must touch the dreamer. Then the Healer will asleepmake her.”_

Jon caught Em's scowl. They’d been extremely careful not to touch the liquid in which the tactical officer was immersed. It had occasionally splashed on to their gloves and EV suits when they'd been moving Malcolm, but the droplets had scurried across the smooth material and back into the boat as though they’d had lives of their own, sometimes displaying an eerie disregard for the laws of physics by travelling upwards when they had to. But a mental link would require skin-to-skin contact, thus exposing Hoshi to considerable additional risk from the liquid.

_“There will not be harm.”_ T'Pol pointed to Hoshi again. _“Trust me.”_

The tank had been constructed to approximate the size and depth of the pool in which Malcolm had first been found. Seated next to the tank, Hoshi could easily reach in and touch the Englishman. Since she was going to be sedated, she’d need to be supported. Em volunteered, and sat down behind her, bracing herself to take the weight. Trip moved up a heavy toolbox to give Em something against which to lean back.

T'Pol shifted to kneel alongside them both, ready to perform the mind-meld. It would be logical to do this after the sedation had been performed, so that she wouldn’t be affected by the transition.

Phlox was adjusting a hypospray. “I’ll only give you a very light dose,” he assured Hoshi. “You won’t be fully asleep. Just very drowsy, hmm?”

She smiled at him, though there was a nervous edge to the expression. “Whatever you say, Doctor.”

“And I’ll be keeping a close eye on you throughout. As will the captain.”

“I’m sure.”

“Whenever you feel ready, Hoshi,” said Jon gently, “if you’re sure you want to do this. You don’t have to.”

She looked down at the motionless body in the tank. Her elbow rested on the rim of the aluminum, her hand hovering over the liquid ~~,~~ which had gone completely clear again, as though it was waiting. Millimeters from the surface, her fingers hesitated. She bit her lip, looked back up at Jon and nodded, and then with a smooth movement, she thrust her hand in and took hold of the lax hand that floated there

Her apprehensive expression cleared, replaced by relief and wonder. “He’s not cold. And the water … it’s warm.”

The contact between her and the armory officer had produced results. The liquid filled with myriad shifting golden lights, like the sun seen from below the surface of the ocean.

“You okay, Hoshi?” asked Trip, hovering nearby, ready to pull her away if need be.

“Yes. It feels … it feels kind of weird. But nice weird.”

Phlox rested the hypospray against her neck. “Are you ready, Ensign?”

She nodded.

The hiss of the hypospray was loud in the quiet. T'Pol was ready, and caught Hoshi’s head as it lolled forward. With her free hand she touched the psi points on the young officer’s face. “My mind to your mind…”

Hoshi’s eyelashes fluttered.

“My thoughts to your thoughts,” the Vulcan went on steadily. “Our minds are merging. Our minds are one.”

Trip dropped to one knee beside the First Officer, watching her. Seeing them together like that, Jon thought that it was just as well that T'Pol was concentrating all her attention on Hoshi, because far too much was showing on Trip’s face.

_Great_ , Jon thought. First Hoshi and Malcolm, now Trip and T'Pol.  Another complication, like they didn’t have enough to cope with right now. Still, this one would wait.

More washes of gold sparkles flitted through the liquid, followed by dark blue and intense green. Vivid hues fled through the liquid in brilliant, broken waves, as though thousands of tiny fragments of colored glass sprang into existence just long enough to refract and then disappear. 

_“…Joy!...”_ muttered T'Pol, her face creased with concentration. _“…Two dreamers … we had not known this…” “… so much…” “…learn…”_ She threw back her head. “Ensign. Talk to them. We have to talk to them.”

There was a long pause, and then Hoshi whispered something, too softly to be audible.

Trip put out a hand as though to touch T'Pol but evidently thought better of it and drew it back. “Doc?” he said in a low voice, glancing at Phlox, who was monitoring the Vulcan.

“Everything seems to be fine, Commander.” The Denobulan’s attention was fixed on his scanner. “I don’t see any reason for concern so far.”

“How long should this take, though?” Trip glanced anxiously at the captain. “It seems to be goin’ on an awful long time…”

Jon looked at the tableau in front of him. T'Pol was on one side of Hoshi, her hand to the comm officer's face. Em, cradling Hoshi from behind, hadn't moved a muscle. And submerged in a tank with one of the weirdest alien life-forms he had ever encountered, was his tactical officer, not breathing or moving, yet somehow alive.

“It will take as long as it takes,” Jon told Trip. “You're going to have to be patient.” At his own words, he smiled without humor. Being patient had never been Trip’s strong point, but right now he wasn’t much better at it himself – particularly not when several members of his crew were in an unknown and possibly dangerous situation.

And then suddenly, without warning, Malcolm moved.


	13. Chapter 13

Jon almost jumped when Malcolm threw out his free hand, groping for the edge of the tank.  His movements were swift but controlled, with none of the panic that the captain, with his knowledge of his officer's secret phobia of drowning, would have expected to see in a man who had awoken to find himself submerged.

Holding Hoshi's hand in a strong grip, the tactical officer pulled himself to his knees. The liquid cascaded off him in a shimmer of leaping silver, leaving him as completely dry as though he had sloughed off a skin of mercury. He drew in a deep, easy breath, and opened his eyes.

“Captain,” he said politely.

Jon felt one of the knots of tension in his gut relax. “Good to have you back, Malcolm,” he said with a relieved smile.

Next to him, Trip beamed in agreement. “Yeah. You had me scared there for a while.”

The welcome brought a tinge of pink to the Englishman’s cheekbones.

 T'Pol, meanwhile, had carefully removed her hand from Hoshi's face. After checking to make sure the comm officer was suffering no ill effects of the meld, she turned to Malcolm. “I am pleased you are with us again, Lieutenant.”

Em smiled over Hoshi's shoulder at her immediate superior, but directed her concern at the comm officer whom she was continuing to support. “You okay?”

 “Yeah … wow, that’s weird.” Hoshi blinked.  She seemed startled to see that her hand was still gripped in that of the ship’s tactical officer, and blushed at catching Trip’s knowing grin.

“I would recommend a period of rest, Ensign,” T'Pol told Hoshi gravely. “Any of the meditation techniques we have practiced will assist you in recovering your mental equilibrium. I am sure the captain will excuse you the rest of your duty shift today.”

“I think you've earned it,” Jon said.

Malcolm stood up with what appeared to Jon to be exquisite care not to look at Hoshi as their hands disengaged. Hoshi likewise avoided looking at Malcolm as Em helped her to her feet

“After you get something to eat, stop by Sickbay before going to your cabin,” Phlox advised the comm officer, who gave him a fleeting smile as Em led her toward the cargo bay door.

Jon nodded approvingly. Although the meld appeared to have gone well, he didn't want to take any chances. He'd have to ask Phlox to check T'Pol later as well. Returning his attention to his head of Tactical, he saw that the man was standing at attention.

“Reporting for duty, sir,” Malcolm said. “I believe I owe many people thanks for my rescue.”

“Even if we were ‘bloody idiots’ for doing it?”  Jon asked with a wry smile.

Malcolm blushed even more noticeably than Hoshi had done. “Er, sir, I…”

“Relax, Lieutenant. Actually, you were probably right. I sure wouldn’t want to go through that again.” He glanced at Phlox. “How is he, Doctor?”

“None the worse, as far as I can tell, Captain,” the Denobulan replied cheerfully. “I shall, of course, require him to come to Sickbay for a more exhaustive examination.”

“Yes, Doctor,” muttered Malcolm gloomily. He lifted one foot to step out of the tank but wobbled. Trip reached out to steady him.

“I do feel somewhat woozy.” The lieutenant shook his head gingerly. “In fact, I _do_ believe I’m seasick. Can’t imagine why.”

“Oh, we can soon treat that.” Phlox produced another hypospray and emptied the contents of it into his patient’s neck.

Even though he'd had his Armory officer restored, Jon wasn't sure he understood what had just taken place. He turned to his first officer. “T'Pol, do you feel up to explaining what happened here?”

The Vulcan had remained kneeling beside the tank, looking into the water ~~,~~ which had once more become quiet and colorless save for the odd glint of gold. It didn’t escape Jon's notice that she glanced at Malcolm before she spoke, and he fleetingly wondered what thoughts of the Armory officer she might have picked up.

“With Ensign Sato’s help, I was able to obtain a significant amount of information regarding the Aith,” she responded. “They evolved in symbiosis with another species on Gallarax I, presumably during a period when the star was smaller and more stable. Unfortunately, at some point, stellar activity increased, resulting in the extinction of all life-forms on the planet, including the Aith's symbionts.

“The Aith are an energy form. They have no means of propulsion, and were therefore unable to leave their planet. They cannot move from place to place, except by sending out a part of their consciousness, which were the ‘shadows’ we perceived.

“However, the planet – along with three others of the five in this system – was rich in minerals. An exploratory vessel made a landing on it. When one of the explorers sustained an injury, the Aith were discovered when they restored that person to health, much as they did with Mister Reed.”

T'Pol looked up at Jon. “The value of a species with such powers to heal must have been immediately obvious. The explorers transported them off the planet, undoubtedly fearing that more stellar activity would complete its destruction – which, indeed, it did, as we now know.

“The Aith do not know why they were left where they were. However, it was the nearest place of concealment. There may have been some intention on the part of the explorers to return, but no one did. The Aith were left there, abandoned and alone.”

“Do we have any time frame for this?” asked Trip.

“I was unable to determine that. The Aith do not appear to have any recognizable reference points for the passage of time. However, it was at least as long ago as the destruction of their original planet. Our scanners indicate that took place some two hundred years ago.”

“Hardly surprising then that they were so reluctant to abandon the first sentient being they came upon,” commented Phlox, his expression one of deep pity.

The captain transferred his gaze to his tactical officer. “Malcolm, do you have anything to add to this?”

“Not a great deal, sir. To be perfectly honest, I don’t remember an awful lot about it. Most of it was just … dreaming. Rather nice dreams, in fact, as far as I can remember. I wasn’t frightened in any way.”

“But didn’t you remember us? Remember the ship?” demanded Trip.

The gray eyes were reflective. “Not a great deal. Nothing seemed really real. I was just … happy.”

“I would imagine, Captain, that Mister Reed experienced what the Aith themselves experienced,” T'Pol said. “They had been incomplete for so long, and suddenly they encountered a life form which could provide what they lacked. I would imagine that it was a deeply significant experience for them. They were extremely suspicious of strangers, after the way they had been deceived; but they came upon Lieutenant Reed when he was already half-conscious, and susceptible to their thought patterns. There were sufficient parallels between humans and their original symbionts for them to become deeply attached to him.”

Jon frowned. “Right. So they found him and latched on to him. I understand that. But why did they let him go?”

The Vulcan looked at Malcolm again. Color burned up in his face, but he returned her gaze steadily. “Because they established that he was a part of what they understood as a human symbiosis. They did not feel entitled to deprive him in order to satisfy their own desires.”

This was going to make his report to Starfleet even _more_ hazardous to write, thought the captain. Fraternization between ranks was frowned upon, but he could make a case that Malcolm and Hoshi weren't in the same chain of command. The fact that they had been discreet about it was in their favor, too.

But that wasn't important at the moment.  At least he now had a handle on what the situation was with the Aith.  It was unthinkable that the Aith be anyone’s ‘property’. Just because they’d been found on a planet in Tellarite space didn’t mean they were _things_ , to be claimed and owned and exploited. They were sentient beings. Not for the first time, Jon wondered whether the Tellarites even knew that the Aith were on the planet.

“Phlox, I’m hoping you can help me out here,” he said, turning to the Denobulan. “You have contacts through the IME. Think you can turn up anyone on Tellar? Someone you can _rely_ on?” He placed particular emphasis on ‘rely’, and understood from the doctor’s thoughtful frown that he’d picked up the significance of it.

“I can’t say that I have any acquaintances there in person, Captain, but I can certainly contact my friend Doctor Lucas. He may well be able to point me in the right direction.”

“Make sure it’s in _absolutely_ the right direction, Doc.” Archer glanced at T'Pol. “Are the Aith okay?”

“They are awaiting developments, Captain. I was able to convince them that they are in trustworthy hands.”

Jon ran a hand wearily over his face. “Now all I have to do is live up to it.”  ~~~~


	14. Chapter 14

It had been two days since they'd brought the Aith aboard and Malcolm had been returned, hale and hearty, to them. Jon thought that the aliens had been remarkably patient so far, but he didn't want to test their equanimity if he could help it. He was ready for good news when he called his senior officers together for a meeting, and his hopes rose at the even-more-cheerful-than-usual expression on Phlox's face.

 “I believe that I may have found the solution to our little problem,” the doctor announced proudly.

T'Pol raised one eyebrow, sure evidence that her interest had been piqued. “Indeed.”

“Most certainly.” The doctor beamed. “Doctor Lucas was able to put me in touch with a colleague of his on Tellar who had access to their safety database. I was sure that the restriction on the Gallarax system would have been filed as a safety issue; it was hardly likely that anyone would have listed the _real_ reason why they wanted visitors kept away from it. And sure enough, there was an old report that it harbored a highly contagious, potentially deadly virus, and should be declared off-limits. The ship's captain who filed that recommendation was not a particularly praiseworthy character, but since his report ~~s~~ also contained additional, verifiable information regarding the increasingly erratic behavior of Gallarax itself, the Tellarite government initiated the ban.”

“Did you find out why that captain never came back for the Aith?” Jon asked.

Phlox's expression lost its prior cheerfulness. “Sadly, from what I was able to discover, he and his crew met with an unfortunate accident shortly afterwards. The only thing I was able to establish for certain was that his ship was recorded as destroyed in an exchange of fire at a rather disreputable spaceport widely known to attract an unsavory clientele. There were no survivors.”

“How very convenient for the unsavoury clientele responsible for that ship's destruction,” remarked Malcolm dryly.

“That explains some of it,” said the captain with a curt nod, relieved that he wasn’t about to become entangled in accusations of theft from the Tellarite government. Not that he really expected a civilization as advanced as the Tellarites' to claim a sentient species as property, but those of an unscrupulous nature could try to take advantage of the Aith's extraordinary healing ability. “But it doesn’t get us a whole lot further in figuring out what to do with the Aith.”

“On the contrary, Captain.” Phlox’s smile spread even further. “I took the liberty of taking Doctor Lucas partially into my confidence; he understands the necessity of confidentiality.  And it transpires that he has been corresponding with a new medical facility set up on Risa.”

“ _Risa?_ ” Trip’s voice rose an octave. “I thought that place was just for havin’ a good time!”

“Certainly, Commander,” remarked Phlox, “but one of the most marked Risan characteristics is a complete lack of prejudice. And that makes it the ideal place where those whose outlook on certain matters differs from that of their own governments may gather and carry out vital research that might not attract official funding or even recognition elsewhere.” The doctor looked kindly at T'Pol. “I believe that our First Officer is acquainted with one of the doctors who has been able to find a place there.”

T'Pol blinked. “You are referring to Doctor Yuris?”

“Indeed.” For Hoshi and Travis's benefit, Phlox explained, “Doctor Yuris is a Vulcan who came into conflict with his superiors during our recent visit to the Interspecies Medical Exchange conference at Dekendi III. He is an intelligent and compassionate young man who deserved considerably better from his superiors than he received, I regret to say.”

“I’m glad to hear he’s found somewhere he fits in,” Jon said with real warmth. “So Doctor Lucas thinks this place may be suitable for the Aith?”

“He does, Captain, and I agree with him. The Risan facility is run for the benefit of all. I can hardly imagine anywhere that the Aith would find a more wholehearted welcome.” He paused. “Of course, the Aith will have to agree.”

“That brings us to the next topic,” Jon said, turning an expectant gaze on Hoshi.

“I haven't found any way to use the UT to communicate with the Aith,” she replied promptly. “Everything I tried produced gibberish. I don't think their 'language' can be translated into a written or spoken form. It's more a sharing of minds– ” she cast a quick glance at T'Pol “–than a sharing of words.” She smiled gamely. “Much as I hate to admit it, I don't think I'll be adding their language to my list of linguistic achievements.”

T'Pol shifted in her seat. “I have no objection to continuing to serve as a liaison with the Aith until their disposition is settled. From my contact with them, I believe they would be … happy … to find a home on Risa.”

It felt as though a weight had rolled off Jon's shoulders. “As soon as we're done here,” he told T'Pol, “please check with them. I'm going to go on the assumption that they will want to go to Risa, so–” He swung towards Travis. “–when you get back to the bridge, set a course for Risa, with a detour to Tellar to drop off the miners.” A frown marred his features. “Did we ever find out why that green mineral was so important to them?”

“It is a seasoning,” T'Pol said flatly.

There were looks of disbelief around the table.

“A seasoning?” Trip asked, incredulous. “You mean like salt?”

“Yes,” T'Pol said.

“That's insane!” the engineer burst out. “They risked their lives, and Malcolm nearly got killed, because they needed a seasoning for their food?”

“It is a particularly rare and valuable seasoning by Tellarite standards,” T'Pol informed him. “One cargo-hold of it and the miners probably could have lived a life of luxury on Tellar for quite a few years.”

On that note, Jon dismissed his officers. As they got to their feet, he told Phlox, “Thank you for using your contacts to help us, Doc. I'd give you a promotion except there's nowhere for you to go.”

“I am perfectly content where I am, thank you.” He beamed around the assembly. “And while we're on the topic of Risa, I would also like to point out that it has been some time since our last period of shore leave. It would be wholly possible to combine business with a little pleasure, if the captain is agreeable.”

“Risa has some beautiful beaches,” Trip said casually with a sidelong smirk at Malcolm. “Some of 'em are pretty secluded.”

Jon watched as Malcolm's million-megacochrane glare at Trip subsided slowly to an expression of speculation. A covert glance at his communications officer showed a blush rising in her cheeks again. Luckily for all of them, Trip dropped the subject, and Jon didn't have to intervene.

As they filed out, the captain realized that he had come to the conclusion, over the last few days, that he'd never really agreed with Starfleet's anti-fraternization regulations. They were out in space, away from Earth, for long periods. To deny forming relationships was to deny human nature, which could have detrimental effects on a long voyage away from home.

He decided he didn’t have to include _every_ detail in his report to Starfleet. And in this instance, what Starfleet didn't know wouldn't hurt it – or his crew.

He realized too that for all their strangeness, the Aith’s need for symbionts was not at all unlike the human need for relationships.  Despite the huge differences that separated that particular alien species from humans, they had the need for deep companionship in common; and somehow that seemed to bridge the gap, so that it was no longer insurmountable.

The knowledge that he and his crew had managed to save the Aith from extinction, and that it seemed a happy ending for them was just around the corner, brought him a warm glow of satisfaction as he walked down the corridor.  It was the sort of achievement he’d dreamed of when the captaincy of this voyage of exploration had first been offered to him.  The reality had been very different from the dream; space was a difficult, dangerous place.  But once in a while, there was indeed a touch of magic that made it all worthwhile.

And this, definitely, had been one of them.

 

 

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All comments and reviews received with gratitude!


End file.
